The girl gazes wonderingly around the room. Her timeless features morph into an expression of fascination and intrigue. There is an ethereal beauty, a certain delicateness to her. From the curling chocolate brown locks that cascade down her back, to the pristine white dress that swishes softly around her knees as she walks, to the large doe-like eyes that are filled with wonder, she appears as innocent and fragile as a porcelain doll.

She finds the room beautiful. It feels like she is in a place out of time, a room where time had frozen and captured everything in all its antique elegance. She admires the carefully polished furniture, seeing the wood shine with a dull gleam. Carefully, she walks past the timeworn piano, lightly running the pads of her fingers over the cool ivory keys. Books upon books were tightly packed together on cherry brown shelves, a light coat of dust resting on top of the leather bindings.

She turns around, and her gaze falls on the lone novel sitting in the center of the old oak desk. The shade of the cover was a pale beige, and dark brown at the spine. Near it, a pen lay discarded to the side. She grows curious and takes a seat in the ornate chair, reaching for the book. She hesitates a moment, then shakes her head with resolve and gently picks it up. With a tender touch, she opens it, the crisp paper crackling. There – in script that swooped and scrawled across the page like a ballerina would across her stage - is the title: ‘Fiction and Fact.’

With a small smile, she turns to the first page and begins reading.

 

---

 

Laughter spills out in peals from a small yet quaint café stationed in the middle of the block. Inside, six young men sat sprawled at a corner table, trying their best to contain their laughter but hopelessly failing. The other people dining there turn their heads reproachfully, but upon seeing the joy on the men’s faces, only smile to themselves and shake their head.

One man, sitting at the corner of the table, smiled softly at his embarrassing friends, having long given up on getting them to quiet down. In one hand, he swirled the dark, fizzy drink in his glass, staring down at it before chugging the entire soda down. The bubbles tickled his throat as they went down. Most would have gawked at the fact that he had just swigged half a can of Coke in one go, but such a feat was an everyday thing for Yong Junhyung.

“And then?” Kikwang prodded eagerly, choking on his words as a laugh bubbled up his throat. “What happened then?”

Hyunseung couldn’t help sniggering as he concluded his story. “So I’m walking to school the next day and I see all of my other classmates who had similar haircuts, but as we were walking… we see something shiny and sparkly from the distance, and-”

The rest of the group exploded in laughter. Doojoon slapped Dongwoon on the back with fervor, the latter laughing with a slightly pained expression. Yoseob had toppled over, falling to his hands and knees onto the tiled floor, and Kikwang had jumped out of his seat to plaster himself to a nearby wall. Junhyung, the only one able to maintain his composure, hid a few mirthful chuckles underneath his hand.

Junhyung felt a small vibration from his pocket, and he stealthily slipped out his phone. He smiled at the new message, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

“Oh god, that is too good,” Yoseob wheezed. He climbed back into his seat, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Did that really happen?” Dongwoon asked.

“One-hundred percent true, I swear it,” the lanky redhead answered with a grin.

Doojoon noticed Junhyung typing away at his phone. “Who are you talking to?” he inquired, eyes narrowing.

“Hmm?” He looked up, a serene smile on his face. “Oh, sorry about that, guys. I was just texting Boyoung. Sorry guys, but it looks like I’m going to have to leave early; she wants me home as soon as possible so I-”

He saw his friends’ demeanor changing as he spoke, the laughter and smiles immediately disappearing. Startled, he stopped talking and blinked at the wide array of expressions he saw in his friends’ faces: discomfort, panic, worry.

“What’s up with you?” he inquired.

The uncomfortable glances they threw at eachother only served to make him more suspicious.

“Junhyung-ah,” Yoseob started tentatively. “You can’t still be thinking – acting - it’s been almost two months already…”

“Two months since what?” Yoseob flinched at the question, making Junhyung’s frown deepen.

“Hyung, if you need to talk to us, we’re here for you. We care about you,” Dongwoon, their youngest, murmured softly.

Junhyung shifted uncomfortable in his seat. “You guys are seriously acting weird. But Boyoung’s expecting me home, so if you don’t mind-“

“No one’s expecting you at home, Junhyung-hyung.” He glanced with alarm at Kikwang, who was usually so gullible and ditzy. Now, the younger man held a look of clarity and wariness in his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, giving Junyhyung a piercing gaze. “At first we thought this was your way of coping, so we ignored it. But you’re starting to worry us now, hyung. This isn’t healthy for you.”

Hyunseung rested a hand on Junhyung’s shoulder. “You have to let her go.”

Junhyung looked at him like he was crazy. “What in the world are you saying?”

Doojoon grabbed him roughly by the arms, his eyes flaming with frustration. “We’re saying that you have to stop this! Stop with all this pretending, stop pretending that things are how they used to be. They aren’t, Junhyung. You have to accept that you and Boyoung aren’t together anymore.”

“What?!” Junhyung looked outraged, furious at the audacity of his so-called ‘friends.’ “If this is a joke, this isn’t funny.” He shot up, throwing Doojoon’s hands off of his shoulders, a fiery look in his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Boyoung’s waiting for me,” he said coldly, and with that, he walked out.

As soon as he stepped into the drizzling rain, his mood immediately brightened at the prospect of seeing his girlfriend, and he cheerfully began to whistle a small tune to himself as he strode down the sidewalk. She was all that was on his mind: her charming eye-smile, her delightful laugh, her melodious laugh. She was waiting for him, and he couldn’t wait to see her.

If he looked over his shoulder, he might have noticed the devastated scene he left behind. He might have noticed Kikwang’s and Dongwoon’s shattered expressions, Hyunseung’s chin sinking wearily to his chest, Yoseob bursting into tears while Doojoon patted his back with a grim face. But Junhyung’s thoughts were only on one girl and one girl alone, and the friends he left behind remained unnoticed.

..::..

A little ways down the sidewalk, he passed a music store. The store was divided into two. One half evidently sold instruments. The room was dim aside from a single spotlight on each instrument. Pianos were proudly displayed through the glass window, the light making the sparkly ivory keys gleam. The other half sold music. Like a stereotypical musician’s nest, it was artistically cluttered, sheets sticking out of shelves and repertoires scattered across display tables. Junhyung entered the store, gently resting hand on a piano repertoire. It was a Contemporary piece, easy to play, with a simple design on the cover. It reminded him of a certain music fanatic, who loved to play the piano, despite her limited learning with the instrument.

Junhyung silently entered the room, where his girlfriend was pounding mercilessly on the piano keys. He cringed as she slammed her fingers down, creating a rather dissonant-sounding chord. With a soft chuckle, he crept up behind her and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders.

Boyoung immediately relaxed underneath his hands. She tilted her head up, meeting his soft gaze with a smile. “Hello, oppa.”

“Boyoung,” he murmured. Then, one corner of his mouth quirking up mischievously, “That’s a pretty eccentric piece you’re working on. A piece by Ginastera, I assume?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know who that is, but it sounds a bit out of my reach.” She straightened the sheet music that sat on top of the stand. “I was just trying to learn this piece that I found in the music store nearby. I listened to the demo, and the melody is really beautiful, but…” She sighed, exasperated.

Junhyung wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head as he scanned the piece. Silently, she played with his fingers, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“If you like it, then I can buy the CD for you,” he suggested. “Or I could get Seungho to play it for you, I’m sure he’d be willing to.”

She shook her head. “It takes away the beauty of it all. It’s wonderful to listen to, but it’s a whole different thing entirely to take the time and effort to learn it yourself. Each person has their own unique style… Somehow, even if it takes me a while, I want to hear the unique melody I make.”

Junhyung was silent at first. And then he lowered his head, pressing a kiss into the crown of her head, before taking a seat to her left. He gripped her hands, meeting her surprised eyes with his.

“Well then, why don’t we create our own unique melody together?”

Gently, he guided her hands to the upper octave, and placed his in the lower. They shared a smile, and together, they played, with a style created from the combination of two different but harmonious voices.

Boyoung will love this song, he thought, looking over the notes. He nodded decisively to himself and picked up the small repertoire, bringing it to the cashier. With the sheet music tucked securely underneath his arm, he exited the store and continued down the street.

..::..

A block or two from the café, Junhyung entered a large clothing store. A new line of clothing adorned the mannequins, styled and decorated to match the oncoming winter season. Large, woolen sweaters hung from their thin, artificial frames, complete with a warm, fuzzy hat. Junhyung, still whistling his happy tune, walked up to one, admiring the style. It reminded him of something – a night of cozy sweaters, hot chocolate, a crackling fire, and a special someone.

A loud, watery sneeze echoed around the dimly-lit living room. Junhyung sniffled and groaned, muttering curses at his inelegant sneezes. Why did he of all people have to sound like a honking elephant when he sneezed? Grumbling, he inched closer to the fireplace, up as much warmth as he could.

He heard a giggle like crystal bells, and he looked to his right. There, his girlfriend gazed down at him, a twinkle in her eye. In her hands, she held a tray carrying two cups of steaming hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows. “Bless you,” she said with an amused smile.

He leapt up to take the tray from her hands, leaning forward to place a peck on her forehead. “Thanks, babe,” he grinned, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

“I could have done that myself, oppa.” Boyoung frowned. “You shouldn’t stress yourself any more. You’re still sick, after all.”

“You’ve been stressing over me all week,” Junhyung chided. “I want you to relax a bit too.”

He patted the empty seat on the couch beside him. He knew she couldn’t ever stay displeased with him forever, and as he predicted, she kept up the frown only a moment longer before breaking into a smile and happily plopping down beside him. She picked up one of the cups and brought it against Junhyung’s lips. “Drink,” she commanded with a smile.

He chuckled, saying, “As you wish,” before taking a small sip. He closed his eyes in bliss. She always knew how to make a perfect cup of hot chocolate – just the right amount of milk and cocoa, the perfect balance of sweet, bitter, and creamy.

Boyoung stared at him expectantly. “How does it taste? Do you feel warmer now?” she asked. He thought that her voice was sweeter and smoother than the drink.

“A bit.” An idea came to him, and a sneaky grin flashed across his face. Gently, he took the mug from her hands and set it to the side. “I know something that would make me warmer, though.”

She gasped in surprise as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He nuzzled his face into the neck of her crème-colored sweater. It was soft and fluffy and oh-so-comfortable, but he thought that compared to the person wearing it, it was as rough as tweed.

“Oppa!” She cried, struggling to get out. Her tone was indignant, but there was laughter in her eyes.

“What?” he replied innocently. “Can’t a guy cuddle with his girlfriend?”

She sighed, still attempting to maintain a frown on her face. “You’re going to get me sick, oppa.”

And he replied, “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

She froze, and then, the smile evident in her voice, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

..::..

A bookstore caught his eye as he walked past. The place, although small, was brightly lit and kept in tidy condition. Books of all shapes and sizes were stacked on countless shelves, stretching far into the back of the store. He stopped in front of the window, where several crisp new stories were displayed. Various titles grazed the covers, and a dumb grin came over his face as he thought of a certain book-lover and her passion for stories.

“Boyoung-ah…”

Junhyung pouted childishly as his girlfriend continued to disregard him, reading a small paperback with a small smile on her face and a wondrous look in her eyes. He had been calling her name for the past minute or two, but her eyes – and, apparently, her ears – were glued to the book.

He sidled up next to her on the couch and wrapped his arms around her waist. Startled, she let out a small squeak, nearly dropping the book. She looked at him reproachfully, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her lips. “Oppa! You surprised me!”

Junhyung chuckled. “Well, if you’d just noticed me in the five minutes I’ve been sitting here, then you wouldn’t have been startled at all.”

“Sorry, oppa,” Boyoung grinned, creating flutters in his chest. “I’m just reading a really interesting story.”

“What’s more interesting than your lovely boyfriend?”

She laughed, pecking him on the cheek. “Nothing, of course. But you should read this when I’m finished, oppa. It really is a good book.”

He shrugged. “Books aren’t my thing.”

“It’s always worth a try.”

Junhyung frowned. “Why do you like books so much anyway? It’s just words on paper.”

She smiled serenely, staring at the wall in front of them. “Oh, but it’s so much more than that, oppa. There aren’t just words in there, but different places, different lands – whole new worlds. Romance, treachery, excitement, heartbreak, everything that the real world lacks is inside.

“But what I like the most… I like the feeling of eternity that comes with them. Books are like something out of time, something not affected by the ticking of the clock. Inside books, entire characters are preserved, them with all their quirks and faults and weaknesses and everything that makes them who they are.

“Whenever I read a book, I feel like each and every character becomes a part of me, and so long as I have that book, they’ll stay by my side forever.”

..::..

He was almost there. The rain poured mercilessly down on him, soaking through his hair and clothes, but his mood remained as bright as ever. He only hoped that the new song he’d purchased wasn’t ruined – it would be rude to bring home a sullied present. He knew his girlfriend probably wouldn’t mind. That was the wonderful thing about her; little things weren’t one to anger her. She was so mild-mannered and peaceful.

As he approached the crosswalk, a shiver ran down his spine. He frowned. Something tugged at his heart, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps he was just cold. He shrugged off the feeling, dismissing it as an oncoming cold. He’d get Boyoung to make him something warm later. A hot chocolate, perhaps.

But then, as he pressed the button to cross the street, the feeling came back, thrice as strong, and he doubled over, hissing in pain. He fell to his knees, clutching at his head. He felt like his head was being split into two, a scene he’d tried his hardest to repress and bury forced its way into his brain.

He couldn’t even remember what she had gotten so upset about. All he knew was that they were at each other’s throats, and what was once originally a simple argument now escalated into something far worse.

“You never think about me, about us,” Boyoung shrieked. “Did you ever even care for me? Have you ever thought of our relationship at all?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snarled. “I thought of you all the time. I cared for you, supported you, provided for you. Why am I the bad guy here?”

“Because you are! You’re rash, you’re careless, you forget everything. You walk in here like nothing’s wrong and everything’s fine and expect me to be happy to see you?”

“What do you expect me to do? Walk in here and act like you’re some goddess? Do you want me to drop to my knees and kiss your feet or something?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” Boyoung clenched her hands into fists. “See, this is what I hate so much about you. You never take anything seriously. Sometimes, you really make me want to kill myself!”

The words came out of his mouth before he had time to process them. “So what’s stopping you? If you want to die, go ahead, since I apparently don’t care anyway!”

Junhyung’s head jerked to the side and he rocked back, his cheek stinging from the echoing slap she delivered. He looked down at her, furious, about to say more, when he noticed her watery eyes glistening with pain.

“I hate you.” The words struck him harder than any slap ever would. She blinked back the tears and streaked out the room. The sound of the front door slamming echoed throughout the house, foreboding and hollow-sounding.

His blood pounded in his ears. He crouched down and screamed into his knees, yelling out his rage and frustration. The anger only lasted for a couple moments before it died down, replaced with stronger feelings of dread and apprehension. He shouldn’t have let her walk out the door. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew that he should have stopped her from stepping it.

He bolted out the door, pausing only to grab his shoes and coat, and into the pouring rain, hoping to catch her before she ran too far. It was a gloomy night, the rain beating mercilessly down from the heavens. The streetlights danced and flickered, throwing an eerie, watery look over the streets.

He spotted a familiar patch of chestnut brown hair a block down from where he was. Spurred on by the sight of her, he ran even faster, hoping to catch her before she slipped away.

A block away, Boyoung scrubbed at her eyes and stepped out onto the street.

Neither of them saw the car skidding down the road.

It all happened so fast.

“Boyoung!” He dropped to his knees beside her prostrate form, Boyoung resembling so much a porcelain doll that had fallen off the shelf, lying broken on the floor. Junhyung took her into his arms, not caring at all about the blood that spilled onto his lap.

“O – opp… a…” she whispered, her breath staggering. Her eyes mirrored fear and regret and pain and more pain, pain, pain. A single tear streaked down her face, drawing a clear line down the splotches of blood.

“Shh,” he hushed, her cheek with a trembling hand. “Don’t leave me, you hear? Don’t you dare leave me.”

She mouthed something. Junhyung read the words, “I’m sorry,” from her pale lips, and then the color disappeared from her cheeks and the light from her eyes.

“No, no, no, I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m sorry, don’t do this, don’t leave me…” Tears poured down his face, mixing with the rain and her blood. He hugged her broken form, bringing his face to hers.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love youIloveyou-“

He repeated the words over and over again, hoping that she would hear, hoping that she would respond. Desperately, he smashed his lips against hers, hoping that she would return the action.

But she didn’t. She didn’t declare her love to him. And her lips were as cold as ice. A scream was wrenched from his throat, raw and hoarse and oh very broken, and at that moment, his world shattered.

Junhyung jerked unsteadily to his feet, his eyes wild. With a snarl, he yanked off the hand of the middle-aged woman asking whether he was alright or not. Clutching his head which still throbbed in pain, he staggered across the street and down the road.

Finally, he burst the door to their home and stood at the doorstop, his breathing labored. He peeled off his coat and let it drop in a crumpled heap to the floor. Then, with a deep breath, he fixed a smile on his face and strode into the small apartment, a light bounce evident in his step.

“Boyoung?” he called. His voice echoed down the hall. “Babe? Babe, I’m home.”

He noticed a light on in the study and strode happily in, holding his arms out wide. “Sorry I made you wait so long, babe. The rain was horrible. I got you a present, though. I managed to keep it dry, just for you.” With a grin, he reached inside his coat and pulled out the crumpled book. He waved it around triumphantly, as if it were a trophy, before practically skipping to the piano and setting it on the stand.

“At the piano again? I knew you’d be sitting here. I know you so well,” he said affectionately. He slid onto the piano bench, sitting on the left half of the seat.

“Mind if I join you? You were playing our song, weren’t you? Come on; let’s play it together.”

Softly, he counted off, and then he began playing. The soulful notes rang through the air as he played the harmony part of the duet, a gruesomely blissful smile stretching across his face.

He never once noticed that the melody had never joined in.

 

---

 

As she reads the last sentence of the short tale, a lone tear rolls down her cheek. She snaps the book shut, pushing it away from her, and stands up. Her steps are wobbly, her gaze flickering, as she begins to walk away from the book. She doesn’t quite know how to feel, what to feel.

And then, she freezes. She looks back at the discarded book. What a poor man, this Yong Junhyung, she thinks. She cannot even begin to imagine the pain that he must have gone through. To have gone through so much, felt so much, that his mind snapped - He must have been so lonely, so extremely lonely. She doesn’t know whether the man in the story is real or simply a character created by someone else, but whoever he may be, she wishes that she could share the burden with him in some way, any way.

And so she turns and walks back to the desk. As if the chair had suddenly become a fragile artifact, she sits carefully down, tucking her skirt underneath her legs. She opens the book and turns to a new page. With a slender hand, she picks up the sleek ballpoint pen and begins to

He lets out a frustrated sigh, tossing the pen to the side. The writing instrument skitters across the wooden desktop and rolls to a stop. He props his elbows on the desk and rests his chin on his hands, glaring angrily at the discarded pen. He huffs again and looks away, fixing his gaze on a framed photograph, and his gaze immediately softens. It’s not anybody’s – definitely not the pen’s – fault that he can’t figure out what in the world to write next. As he gazes longer, reality crashes back down on him, and he slumps, his shoulders drooping down, the image of a broken man.

It was only until after he’d returned back to their apartment did he notice the calendar hanging desolately on the wall. The date had been marked with pink highlighter, like an angry streak of blood.

Even now, the pure guilt weighed down on him like the entire world was on his shoulders. He felt a huge hole in his heart, in himself. He felt empty, and that made the burden all the more heavier.

No matter what anyone told him, he knew in his heart that in the end, it had been ultimately himself who had killed her. He had failed to protect her from the oncoming car, failed to find her in time, failed to keep her from even leaving their apartment. He had failed to realize that the reason why she was so upset was because it was their anniversary that day and he had completely forgotten.

He had failed her. She was never supposed to die. And it was all his fault.

His friends told him that it wasn’t true, that he couldn’t have done anything. His friends had been real helpful. They knew when to be serious and when not to be, when to give him space and when to drag him out of his room and back into the world. But they were idiots. They would never understand what he felt. His therapist told him the same. She also told him that expressing his feelings through another form of communication would help him accept her death. Start a blog, begin a diary, write a book, something, anything.

He knew that she was wrong – he would never accept her death – but he took the advice anyway. Because she would have wanted that. She loved stories, after all. He began writing, and he realized something. He realized that he felt more alive in this separate universe he had created than he did in the true world. That she felt more alive. And so, throughout the whole time he constructed the book, he was happy. But he was nearing the end of the story, and he knew that he would have to say goodbye once more.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let her fall through his grasp yet again, couldn’t fail her again.

“Whenever I read a book, I feel like each and every character becomes a part of me, and so long as I have that book, they’ll stay by my side forever.”

Never again would he taste her hot chocolates, snuggle with her by the fire, or play a duet with her. But he could keep her memory and spirit alive, through words, through a story. This time around, he was determined to keep her and never let her go. He would make sure that she would stay with him, forever and always.

“Never leave me, you hear?” he whispers. And then he reaches for the pen and twists it closed.
 

 

---

 

A/N: Well, this definitely came out a lot later than I intended to. My apologies to everyone who was waiting on it. For the longest time, I had about half the story written down but couldn't figure out just how to write the ending. Even now, it's still shaky, but I'm satisfied enough with it, and I hope you all are too. 

As twisted as this sounds, I hope you all enjoyed reading! Please leave comments and tell me what you think.

The scene in the beginning of the story where all of B2ST are laughing at a story Hyungseung's telling is real. It's from one of their radio appearances, and it's one of my favorite videos of them, because all of them are so happy laughing together and I can't help but laugh with them every time. You can watch it for yourself here. Enjoy!