Jongdae fleetingly passed through the time-worn pages of the old history book, barely drinking in the complex content of the vexed battles and past events as the boredom that grew bolder and bolder with every passing moment threatened to put him to sleep quite early for the day.

He deemed it his bane - that arrant, wretched witch that was boredom, and he would’ve cursed its very existence if it weren’t for the buzzing noise of his phone vibrating on the table, almost slipping of the sharp edge. Leaping with haste from his bed, he snatched it swiftly and ran his finger over the blinking screen, delight showing on his face as soon as he realized Joonmyeon messaged him.

‘Bastard’. It clearly said. Jongdae fiddled with his thumbs, eyebrows frowned deeply as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking with the newfound weight as his apprehensive eyes ran over the letters over and over again.

‘What happened?’ He quickly sent a reply, worry welling in his eyes not ebbing away even the slightest.

And he waited. For several long, seemingly infinitely long minutes he waited for the reply, expecting it to be a heart-wrenching, tearful story of some dread event Joonmyeon had witnessed that day that made him resent Jongdae, yet when the reply came, he honestly wondered whether he should laugh or pity Joonmyeon.

‘Barely scored 70 percent on my math exam. Mom was ‘thrilled’. Bastard, it’s your fault.’

Clicking his tongue, Jongdae stared at the message, letting himself be cushioned by the pillow as he leaned with his back on the mattress, legs crossed as he contemplated on the reply. Typing word by word, he erased it and rewrote it a few times until he was certain the message would do but naught else than to exacerbate Joonmyeon further, much to his pleasure.

‘Slacking off lately, huh?’

From the way it took a few long minutes for the reply to arrive, Jongdae could only laugh in his mind at the thought of Joonmyeon angrily shouting a river of profanities directed at him and breathing heavily, chest undulating as he tries reasoning and explaining to himself that smashing the phone against the wall is less effective than smashing it against Jongdae’s face.

‘You’re the worst.’ Came the awaited reply, unnaturally calm and devoid of all sorts of curses- Joonmyeon must’ve spent minutes erasing them, that was for sure.

Deciding to switch from messages to calls, with a few swift swipes of his finger he dialed Joonmyeon’s number, phone pressed to his ear as he waited for the other to pick up.

Instead of a socially acceptable greeting ‘hello’, he was greeted by a frustrated grunt after which ensued a long moment of silence that he bravely shattered.

-“How mad are you at me?” He asked, voice slightly quivering in an oncoming wave of guilt that was headed towards his heart, billowing like mad.

-“Not really, I just hate having such grades.”

Jongdae snorted rudely.

-“Sorry for always being perfect.”

-“Sorry for being smart.” Retorted the older, deceptive mock flaunting weaved into his words.

-“I r-refuse to reply to that.” Jongdae stuttered in response, rosy blush creeping up his neck as he remembered the state of unruly with his own grades.

-“Are you getting ready?” He heard Joonmyeon asking through a cacophony of rustling sounds and angry yells, deciphering a few rude words echoing off the walls, two brothers fighting over something unknown to Jongdae. He tried discovering the muffled words, but all he could hear led to him realizing it was sheer Sehun’s teasing and probing, nothing more. He waited patiently until the mess on the other side calmed down, counting cracks of his ceiling until he heard Joonmyeon huffing back into the receiver.

-“Back, I kicked him out.” Joonmyeon groaned, plopping down onto the comforting embrace of his bed.

-“In five minutes, I just need to get dressed. I’ll be over in less than half an hour, don’t make me wait for you.” Jongdae in a voice laden with playfulness, finding so much enjoyment in teasing the other.

-“Fine, see you in half an hour.” Joonmyeon responded after which ensued a few goodbyes until one of them decided to be brave enough and cut the call.

Even on the doorstep, Jongdae could clearly hear the dissonant song of ruckus coming from the inner parts of Joonmyeon’s house, the light knock on the ebony-hued door muffled by the excited and exhilarated shouts from the inside. With a bit more intensity, he knocked harder on the door until he heard the bucolic ruckus from the inside calm down and heavy padding headed towards the door.

Sehun’s unruly head poked between the crack as soon as the door was pushed open, eyes narrowing to slits in thought as it took him a while to recognize Jongdae beneath the sea of warm clothing he wore along with the thick, electric blue scarf and matching cap.

-“Ah!” He exclaimed after a long moment lost in profound thought, pushing the door open and urging frozen Jongdae to enter, shouting rather loudly, excessively loudly if you asked the other inhabitants of the house, to Joonmyeon that his friend arrived.

Jongdae had no thoughts of ridding himself of the coat and protective clothing, for he only needed for Joonmyeon to get ready. His feet came to an abrupt and unprepared for halt when he saw two more unruly and messy heads poking into the dim hallway – one belonged to Joonmyeon whose grim countenance suddenly showed a tint of happiness and the other belonged to their neighbor, Jongin who Jongdae had the pleasure to meet on a few occasions.

-“What’s with all the ruckus?” He asked after lowering his scarf a bit, feeling a deep red blush crawling up his skin from the excessive heat in the encasing space.

-“Thouth Korea verthuth Great Britain.” Mumbled Sehun on his way past the hallway to grab Jongin and drag him back to the couch that now more resembled a junkyard full of popcorns and other unhealthy food, along with what seemed to be drink stains.

Ah, good old football.

Joonmyeon smiled at him fondly, corners of his lips tugging up into a complacent smile as he pulled into the narrow confinement of the hallway, gently closing the door behind him. Albeit, he left it a tad open – ajar, as Sehun would say, before proceeding to cut close the proximity between him and Jongdae.

-“I like your scarf.” He softly whispered, eyes apprehensively glancing back in the direction of the living room to check if anyone dared peeking through the crack, but hearing Sehun’s fumbling with words and Jongin’s loud laugh, he concluded the two were by far too immersed into the football game to notice them missing.

-“It suits you.” Joonmyeon gave a flattering compliment as he absentmindedly grasped at the empty air, looking for his vivid coat in almost pitch darkness, too forgetful to turn on the light.

-“Hurry up, I’m hot.” Jongdae muttered in complaint, easing the heaviness of warmth provided by his scarf and uncoiling it from his neck, all but pleased when Joonmyeon chuckled darkly in response.

-“Oh, I know you are.”

-“Pun was not intended, Joonmyeon.” The younger laughed in that characteristic, crisp voice of his, eyes closing to crescents as he felt the other shift around, mumbling incoherent words as he searched for the light switch. Once flicked to ‘on’, he sighed complacently with an accompanying “that’s much better”, this time finding his coat with ease in a mere, swift moment. While pulling it on, realizing the sweater he put on was a tad bit too thick for him to fit in it comfortably, Joonmyeon let out an aspiration of annoyance and he tugged the sleeves a bit too valiantly to be considered normal.

-“We’re out!” He shouted loudly from the hallway, seeing Jongdae bashfully peeking through the gap in the doorway to wave the younger two a small goodbye, out of sheer politeness of course, quickly taking note of Sehun’s stuttered words.

-“He wants you to buy him something.” He said to Joonmyeon, still leaning on the doorframe. ”Girls Generation…wait, yeah, Girls Generation bracelet.”

He was rather taken aback when Joonmyeon shuffled past him, huffing madly like a dog just done with his run as he poked his head through the gap in the doorway, face contorted in slight annoyance and welling anger.

-“No way, you have seven already!”

-“But eight ith my lucky number!”

-“No!”

And if it weren’t for the only sane person – Jongin, who promised Sehun to buy him the eight bracelet if he shuts up- Joonmyeon would’ve went mad long already.

Jongdae tugged at the collar of his coat, playfully pulling him away from the doorway as the older of the two watched his younger brother sulk on the couch, not even the least bit amused by the fact Korea just scored a goal.

-“Come on, let him be.”

But the disapproving grunt of frustration did little of promising that Joonmyeon would ease down quickly.

Once done with the goodbyes and all of the advices coming from Joonmyeon’s mother who was rather reluctant to let her son go, the two practically ran out of the house, the run initiated by Jongdae who felt like a fish boiling in the pot underneath all the thick layers of his clothing, Joonmyeon due to his sweater not far from it. The younger sheepishly smiled, hand curiously winding around Joonmyeon’s brittle right wrist, not falling unnoticed to him how the other jerked his hand away at the warm, bashful touch almost instantly, as if on reflex, before easing up and intertwining their fingers in a manner greatly clandestine. He shrugged the matter off, but a part of his soul kept nagging his brain as to why the other did just that. Uncomfortable, that was the first thought that dawned upon him. Perhaps Joonmyeon was uncomfortable with the idea of them holding hands like that. Perhaps it was shameful for him to hold hands with a man. It was never something that Jongdae asked about, the public shows of affection that is. He knew that they wouldn’t, and in a way, just couldn’t, show the same amount of affection as other couples, but he feared that it will be cut to simple walk side by side without even the opportunity to link their fingers and allow at least so much of intimacy and closeness.

Fearing the other dreaded of reaction of passing people, he slowly eased his hold, long, ivory fingers slipping out of the warm hold of other’s hand and retreating back to his side. Yet, before his hand could comfortably rest, it was caught wordlessly by Joonmyeon’s who then held onto him firmly, grip unrelenting and valiant, by far bolder than the shy one before.

-“So, where is that night market?” Joonmyeon asked after a while of being guided by Jongdae to the bus station he rarely ever used for he never truly needed it, but it was one of which Jongdae was most familiar of.

-“Ahaha…” Jongdae laughed, his crisp voice booming in the stale silence of the evening, reverberating off the houses and echoing down the silent, unmoving street. “Namdemun market...well...You can say it will take us a long bit to reach it, but it's worth it. Food is worth everything.“

True to that, it took them long, just like Jongdae said it would to reach the fair, but once there, Joonmyeon along with the other could simply not keep his excitement to a level deemed normal.

Food stands dotted every and single corner of the long street crowded with people, pungent, rich and opulent scent of food teasing their noses and making their mouth water in delight, titillating their minds at the very thoughts of what variety of food was proffered to them on the stands. Among them poked out stands with all sorts of clothing hanging low and wide, from formal outfits and glittering dresses to casual clothing for everyday use. Jongdae’s eyes glimmered at the sight of fashion accessories glittering like jewels on several stands at which Joonmyeon promptly steered him away, assuring him that he never liked rosy color, let alone rosy dress bows.

Jongdae lowly whined in retort, managing in the end to buy a fashionable bracelet with MBLAQ engraved on a plate held with two leather straps for the wrist with pendants in shape of members’ initials hanging low from it.

-“Give me your wrist, come on.” He urged Joonmyeon to resign to his miserable fate and proffer him his wrist, not minded even the least when they were pushed around by other people, mostly chirping girls that swarmed to the stand Jongdae previously visited, all bewitched by the cheap fan items and accessory just asking to be bought. Joonmyeon shifted nervously on his feet, desperately trying to snatch his right hand away from Jongdae’s hold, wincing slightly when the other gripped it abruptly and held it tight, slightly unnerved and irritated eyes looking at him when Jongdae’s countenance turned stern and cold, devoid of all pleasantries.

-“It’s just a MBLAQ bracelet. It’s not anything embarrassing.”

Joonmyeon lightly huffed, easing his wrist as he cast his gaze low, hiding his expression beneath a sea of wild hair illuminated by iridescent lights washing over their forms from all around.

-“There.” Jongdae said in low voice sounding less amused than usual, dripping in thick sadness. To see Joonmyeon so arrantly refusing to wear something he bought him, albeit an innocent gesture, made the younger’s heart clench in decadent regret and grief.

-“It’s pretty.” Joonmyeon coughed out a bit awkwardly, seeing the way Jongdae’s face was deluged in undeniable sorrow, but much to his surprise and utter pain, the other did not reply not even with a faint smile. Jongdae sent him a knowing look that said all the sorry he could possibly conflate at that moment, realizing Joonmyeon’s discomfort for the done deed.

Jongdae nodded, somewhat acknowledging that he heard the words as he turned around. His face was turned towards the rest of the long, crowded road of the night market whilst flickering shadows of the warm light exuded from the nearby lamps and decorative light bulbs of all possible hues hanging low from the makeshift roofs above the stands played over his sharp features.

Jongdae did not comment what had happened, but was still visibly hurt even when Joonmyeon told him to wait while he makes a short detour to a food vendor that sold bungeoppang, a fish shaped sweet bread with red bean paste and gukhwappang that was essentially the same type of bread only flower shaped, along with hotteok, a type of a filled pancake. Knowing that Jongdae adored nibbling on the hotteok during colder days, he bought two delicious, sweet pancakes filled with honey on the inside, hoping that the savory and saccharine taste will make the latter’s spirits rise up again.

In the end it did serve its purpose as Jongdae forgot all about Joonmyeon’s discomfort whilst trying to eat and talk and avoid people at the same time, eyes glazed with a tint of mirth as they observed the contents of other street vendors and their goods.

They made a long stop at one stand where books were sold, Joonmyeon obviously greatly animated by the variety and plethora of titles offered, but seeing the price tags hanging low on them, Jongdae promptly steered him away, lest other’s soul leaves his body at the inhumane numbers printed on them. Still, that did not stop Joonmyeon from eyeing it as Jongdae could still see his eyes cryptically catching glances of the aforementioned stand even when they were far away.

Somewhere past midnight, already tired of walking and grumping at the hard shoves received from other passing visitors, the two decided to retreat to a nearby food stand with several small tables behind, ordering two delicious ddeokbokki portions and settling on the proffered chairs, split chopsticks in hand as they hovered above their plates, they blew soft puffs of air at the food caught between the sticks.

-“Ahh, this tastes delicious.” Joonmyeon said, laughing in satisfaction as the pungent smell titillated his thoughts and the spicy scent played with his sensitive taste buds. He eagerly savored the thick aroma and the abundance of tastes the dish provided, smiling complacently.

-“The best, definitely. Hadn’t had one this good in a long time.” Jongdae responded, nodding in agreement as he gorged down the content of his plate with such vigorous eagerness that Joonmyeon wondered just how hungry the other was.

-“Are you still mad at me?” The older of the two spoke, head bent low as to avoid meeting other’s gaze.

-“Not mad,” Jongdae answered after a profound moment of contemplation, “I merely feel sorry. I know it must be uncomfortable to be…like this.” He briefly motioned with his hand between them, “So I feel sorry that I’m making it even worse.”

Joonmyeon’s eyes slightly widened, his mind slowly taking in the meaning behind the said words as he let his left hand rest chopsticks by the plate, gaze slowly grazing other’s attenuate form hidden beneath the thick cover of his coat and scarf, barely able to catch a glimpse of his eyes hidden by the obsidian tresses poking beneath the blue hat.

-“Uncomfortable?” He inquired, slight frown marring his face at the thought of the very idea of it. Indeed, it was strange in the very least for him to walk around with a man, knowing the affection they shared for each other, but to say he was uncomfortable… That was far from the truth. It would be an utter lie to say he didn’t stir anxiously whenever he felt prying gazes latch at their posture, suspiciously staring at their retreating forms and questioning their relationship, but having Jongdae by his side, inquiring gazes aside, was more than comfortable. It was reassuring. To bear the same burden of being judged and gossiped about, to share it and diminish it almost to naught, for that he was truly grateful.

-“I’m not uncomfortable.” He said, his sonorous voice drenched in soothing calmth.

Jongdae eyed him suspiciously, bow shaped lips pulling into a tight line as he continued to sit silently, stuffing the spicy ddeokbokki in his mouth on occasion.

-“I beg to differ.” He muttered after a while, head kept low as he mercilessly swished his chopsticks through the air, catching the seasoned rice cake and nibbling on it before chomping the half eaten delicates down his throat.

-“What’s that supposed to mean?” Intercepted him Joonmyeon, slowly feeling the will to eat abating.

-“If it wasn’t uncomfortable, why would you jerk away?”

-“What do you mean?”

Jongdae sighed in voice laden with hurt as he lowered his tone so that only Joonmyeon could possibly hear him.

-“When I went to hold your hand, when I wanted to put the bracelet around your wrist, you kept jerking away. Did you out of pity decide to wear the bracelet? If you disliked it so much, you might’ve as well smiled pleasantly and take it, stuffing it into your pocket without trying to get away from it. It would’ve hurt less.” He mumbled a few more incoherent words that reeked of hurt as he chomped on the last pieces of ddeokbokki that was left, sniffing slightly at the sudden cold embracing him when he was left devoid of warm food.

-“So that’s why you’re so upset?” Joonmyeon asked, pushing his own plate closer to other’s, ignoring his refusal with simple ‘I’m not hungry anymore’ and urging him to finish the rest.

Jongdae gave him a disbelieving look that said but oh-you-don’t-say, taken aback when Joonmyeon reached forwards to pinch his nose hard, making him gasp and writhe for air, his arms trying to slap other’s away.

-“Idiot.”

Jongdae eyed him warily back, blinking a few times as he tried to regain his composure and waited for a further explanation.

Joonmyeon sheepishly smiled, albeit his smile was not a stupid one. Rather, the longer he smiled, the sadder it grew, exuding a feeling of grief and regret with every transpiring moment.

-“It just…it hurts.” He nodded, eyes aimlessly wandering around, taking in the plethora of sounds and sights and all the abundance of lush scents wafting in the cold night air around them, not minded the least when a couple of people with their orders shuffled behind his chair and settled on a nearby chair.

-“It started hurting more and more recently and I don’t know what to do.” He sighed, eyes turning apologetic when he met Jongdae’s inquiring ones.

Even though he never deemed himself the most intelligent man on earth, Jongdae did wonder as to how that what Joonmyeon said had anything to do with the elaboration of his deeds.

-“What…hurts?” He dared asking, feeling somewhat ignorant.

To that, Joonmyeon lifted his right arm and pulled the sleeve lower, revealing his elegantly shaped hand and brittle wrist along with the polished MBLAQ bracelet that reflected the iridescent lights around them.

-“My wrist.”

And it all started making sense.

Jongdae took in a sharp intake of breath, throat panged by a sharp, knife-like cutting pain from the change in temperature before he reached out to touch the alabaster skin so smooth under his fingertips. His face scrunched up in hurt, imagining what it must be like for Joonmyeon to breathe and live every day with the pain as valiant as that, shaking his head at the thought.

-“Why didn’t you tell? Does anybody else know?”

Joonmyeon shook his head in response, retreating his hand back to rest at his side.

-“I think Sehun realized it, but I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to eat with my left hand whenever it started hurting too much so perhaps he noticed it, but I’m not entirely sure, he doesn’t mention it. I’m too scared to tell my mom – I know she will be hurt, but if she takes music away from me…I am not left with anything but you in my life and even that will be over soon.”

He sighed in resignation, good hand coming up to rub the uneasiness away from his face.

-“I know she will sell the piano as soon as she hears of this, not to lead me into temptation of playing when I possibly cannot anymore, and I fear of that. That instrument means more to me than you could possibly understand, almost as if I found finally a purpose in life by playing. It made me feel alive, fulfilled, exhilarated… I cannot explain you the pain of having it taken away. I tried reasoning myself that there is more to life than my pitiful piano, but in the end, do you know what I concluded? All that I ever came to love and need is being taken away from me. First music, then you.”

He did not cry that night, neither will he cry days after while waving final goodbye to Jongdae on the airport, but he learned a valuable lesson that life gave him, albeit having to withstand the hurt it was accompanied by. He realized that life is by far from being perfect and that not always dreams, no matter how small they are, come true, left feeling so terribly alone, as if suffocated by night in a deep gorge with no entrance and no exit anymore, despite being surrounded by bucolic noise of the market and live chatter of visitors, despite the gentle and comforting touch Jongdae provided him with a hug later that evening before they parted.

To say he didn’t try to mend the wound would be a blatant lie, but much to his disappointment, the doctor retold him the same story of many, many years ago, yet this time sealed his life forever. He could still picture the welling sight of regret in doctor’s eyes as he gave him the tips on how to ease the pain, the most hurtful one being that he needed to stop playing piano and use his right hand as less as possible. Writing too, took its wretched toll on his brittle, painful wrist, and so did all other daily activities he regarded as mere trifles before.

He learned that some things happen and that there is no way to return the clock, left with a life they mended themselves.

Much later that night, he let himself be cradled by Jongdae’s attenuate form in front of his entrance door, finding it soul-soothing how the clear smell of Jongdae’s shampoo made the pain in his insides ebb away slowly and how the warmth his hug provided calmed the stirring of his vexed thoughts.

Joonmyeon failed to notice Sehun glancing through the translucent curtain of his bedroom window on the first floor, closing it as swiftly as he pulled it to the side and retreating back to his bedside to kick snoring Jongin on a makeshift mattress messily set near his nightstand and return to his sleep, slightly perturbed by what he had seen.

-“You smell nice, soothing.” Joonmyeon whispered into the softness of Jongdae’s vibrant, vivid scarf, glassy eyes coming up to gaze at other’s warm ones, finding them even more calming.

-“I wish I could kiss your pain away.” Jongdae said wistfully, “Just like my mother did to my scraped knees. I wish it was that easy.”

But it wasn’t. They knew that very well.

-“I know it’s painful right now, and for the time being it won’t get any better, but with passing time the pain should fade away if you don’t use your hand that much, right?” Joonmyeon nodded absentmindedly. “So then, if even for a moment, will you play for me?”

He knew it was a misnomer – Jongdae would never allow him to touch the piano keys again, but it left him feel unexplainably happy to think the other would lie to make him feel happiness, if even for such a short moment, giving him much needed hope.

-“Of course.”

Life is full of lies, both concluded in the end. Some are pitch black, darker than very night and all of the deep gorges, and other are whiter than the freshly fallen snow. Some are laced in wretched venom and inflict searing wounds while other, no matter how wrong they are, protect their dearest.

So, in the end, both decided to lie to each other, saying how everything will be splendid once again, hoping such words would alleviate the dread realization that life is but a low that likes to lash out at them so often, making it seem as if they are headed head down into their own bane.

With saccharine words drenched in honey and coated in crystal sugar, they tried to assure one another it will not hurt anymore. The wrist, the bodies, the souls.

His departure won’t be hurtful, that’s what Jongdae tried to assure them both of, knowing full well he was blatantly lying right in his own face. Yet, it helped him none the less.