Lee Jinki wished he was anywhere but horizontally on his bed, his eyes wide open, with his arms pinned to his sides. Kibum had shown up late that night and asked if he could sleep over, which Jinki unwillingly agreed to (after all, what choice did he have when Kibum announced that no one was at home because they all left him to go on a trip. And will Jinki take responsibility if something bad happened to him? He was only a high school student. Could Jinki really live with the guilt?) 

He didn’t think Kibum had any problems fending for himself, he could cook, couldn’t he? But before he could utter a response, the younger boy hopped onto his bed and proclaimed it was bed time. And then when Jinki said he’d sleep on the floor, Kibum laughed at him, “I’m not going to you, hyung. You can sleep next to me.”

That was what Kibum had said. 

But here he was, awkward. Just plain awkward. It wasn’t anything like when Joon slept over, which sort of made sense because Kibum wasn’t Joon – thought he sure liked to hog most of the bed like Joon.

“Can’t sleep?” 

Jinki tossed one last time and resigned to the truth, “yeah…”

“I wonder why that is, hyung,” Kibum told him with a chuckle, “night.”


The floor tilted, or so it felt like it when Jinki fell backwards. He was asleep on his feet again. It was his fifth time doing that this week, and his body ached so badly by now that it didn’t even matter if it was covered with bruises.

“When’s that kid leaving?” Joon wanted to know, cookie crumbles plastered around his mouth. “He’s a hindrance to your health.”

“Tomorrow is when his parents and grandma gets back,” Jinki sighed tiredly, using the counter to help him into a standing position. “He’s going straight home after school tomorrow.”

“Hm. You should see about getting some rest after that.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Hey, Joon?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you think I haven’t been able to sleep?”

Jinki watched as his cousin turned a slightly interesting shade of pink. Joon lowered his head and wouldn’t meet his eyes, a hand reached out to ruffle his hair, “why?”

“I don’t know. Kibum made some snide comment about how it’s interesting that I can’t sleep when he is sharing my bed.”

“Yeah? Why can't you?”

“He hogs the bed and wraps himself in my blanket like a burrito.”

“Jinki,” Joon finally gave up studying the floor and looked at him. “I think it’s good that you’re so naïve but everyone has their limits. Aren’t you a good problem-solver? Think about it.”

“About what?”

“How I might have been wrong.”

“What?”

“I feel bad for Kibum,” Joon shook his head then returned his attention to the box of cookies.




Lee Jinki wished he was anywhere but horizontally on his bed. He turned around again for the tenth times that night. His bed suddenly seemed too big, and despite the blanket, he couldn’t get warm enough. Maybe he needed a warm cup of milk or something – that always did the trick. 

Shuffling to his kitchen in the dark was a bit harder for Jinki, whose eyesight was a failing thing, like the rest of him, but he managed. 
On the counter in his kitchen, he found a bracelet that didn’t belong to him. Just seeing it there, so out of place against the cheap laminate, made him feel funny. That was something new. Everything about Kim Kibum lately made him feel funny. Sort of like being tossed in the middle of the ocean to drown. He kept trying to come up for air, but his lungs were being flooded with the dreaded liquid, and there were times he couldn’t breathe.




Kibum looked out the window, a pout and frown dominated his face. Five days they spent together and nothing! That was a full week’s worth of effort that had failed. He failed five times in five days – which meant every day of his life for the past week was a failure. Not to mention the times before those five days. Like the day he confessed, the day he made the first move and kissed Jinki, the day when they were on their date and he thought there was a connection, but by the end, he knew Jinki only saw it as a dinner between friends. 

He had never failed so much in life.

It was starting to take its toll.

Minho’s laugh penetrated his thoughts – mostly because it was so obnoxiously loud. 

“What?”

“Jonghyun…Jong…HAHAHHAHHA!”

“WHAT!”

“He got drunk and….” More bouts of laughter.

By now, Kibum was sure Minho was close to peeing his pants.

“WHAT!”

“…chair…thought…girl…made-out…” 

Kibum could only watch helplessly when Minho fell out of his chair and rolled around on the nasty classroom floor. He flicked a glance towards his best friend, whose head hung in shame. Only Jonghyun would somehow end up making out with a chair. 

“Remember when we were watching that movie and you made fun of that guy for kissing his pillow?” Kibum asked, grinning.

“Shut up,” Jonghyun said meekly.

“At least he knew it was a pillow…”

“Shut up.”

“…and at least it was his pillow and not some nasty club’s chair…”

“Shut up.”

“You might have to get tested.”

Jonghyun smirked, “at least I got further than you.”

This time, it was Kibum’s turn to scowl at his best friend, contemplating murder in a room full of people. Minho sobered up in time to intervene any bloodshed. 




It hit him like a ton of bricks. The revelation was a sudden thought, or maybe he had somehow subconsciously known it all along. But it was one of those moments where suddenly it occurred to him, mid-sentence, in the middle of a coffee shop, in broad daylight.

Somehow, he had always imagined these moments to be different. Like when the thought hit, he would be in his room, seriously contemplating the matter. Then he would arrive at the answer, and would know it in his heart that it was right. Because he had spent time debating pros versus cons.

Yet, it was not the case.

So, in the middle of a serious philosophy discussion, Jinki suddenly sprang up from his chair and ran out of the coffee shop. 
Then when he was in front of Kibum’s high school entrance, he stopped himself long enough to mull over the strangeness of the situation.