Minhiya's POV

"Jonghyun, please." Frantically, I dabbed a handkerchief onto his wound. It was no use. The scarlet red liquid had too quickly absorbed itself into the cloth that had once been white. "Why did you get yourself into this mess?" I sobbed, somehow managing to keep the tears in. I don't want Jonghyun to see me cry. He hates it when I do. It took all of my effort not to. "Jonghyun?" Feeling the urge to give up, my nails digged into his bloodied sweatshirt, my head burying into the material for comfort. "Please."

"Minhiya..." His voice was coarse. He lifted up a hand shakily to touch my face, caressing it. He smiled. It was all too transparent that it took all of his effort.

"Yes," I whimpered. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry.

My eyes followed as he reached into his ripped jeans' back pocket, wincing in the process as he had to lift his body up. I couldn't help but watch. It'd be no use stopping him now. He pushed a red velvet book toward me. I reluctantly accepted it, embracing the object tight against my chest. "Promise me..." His voice was fading. I was too slow to react.

He closed his eyes.

And then it all came to me. It was the final action: the final slam of the door, shutting tight, forbidden to open ever again. "Jonghyun," I breathed. I glared at his body. "Jonghyun." I clawed at the collar of his shirt, unable to catch a firm grip. "Jonghyun!" I was screeching now.

The white-hot tears started to overflow uncontrollably, gushing down my cheeks, its volume as much as the River Nile. Then the only sound heard tonight was the voice of my endless wailing.

~∞~

Minhiya's POV ~   ( 6 YEARS LATER )

The putrid smell of garbage cans wafted in the air, so strong that I could taste the rotten fish and chicken and who-knows-what on the surface of my tongue. But I didn't wince at the air. It suited me. It was polluted, like my heart was. The concrete ground was ice to my skin. But my mind and body were already numb. Not that it made any difference to my condition right now. Now that Jonghyun was gone.

I can spot the traffic lights in the distance: red, yellow, green. Green was his favourite colour. But colours meant nothing to me now. The world was a black-and-white grayscale--my world was monochromatic. When Jonghyun was gone, it was as if he took all the colours of the rainbow with him. It wasn't fair. He was now in peace, in a colourful place, while I was stuck here in this colourless wasteland. 

~∞~

Key's POV

"Key-goon! You have to come drink coffee with me tomorrow! Starbucks. I know you like coffee~ If you don't come I'll keep bugging you~!" Nicole's sweet voice rang in my ears. It was too sweet--too girly--for my liking. She skipped out of the door cheerfully, slamming the double doors shut.

"Mother, I'm not marrying her."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Onew-umma~! And you have to, hun. There's no other choice. Nicole is a nice girl, I know you'd come to like her." My mother's voice was too sweet now. She was like a replica of Nicole. It wasn't pleasant.

"No," I told her, my voice slightly shaking. "You like her. I don't. If you like her so much then you go marry her!"

The old woman started choking, as if it was so shocking to see me rebel against her. It wasn't the first time, anyway. The hag was just overly dramatic. "Key! Is that any way to speak to your mother?"

"You call yourself a mother?" Excuse, excuse, quick. "I already have a girlfriend!" Miraculously, I managed to keep my cool, but deep in the corners of my mind, I knew I had shocked myself. But I can't take it back now.

The woman who called herself my "Onew-umma~" was now fanning herself, panicking, as if she was on the verge of fainting. Not that I would care.

"Key-ah," she exhaled tiredly. "You've never brought a girl home in your life. Are you sure about that? You have a girlfriend?" No. I wanted to scream at her. No, I don't have a girlfriend and I don't want one but I don't want to marry, either! As much as I wanted to deny the false excuse, I couldn't. If lying to this old witch kept me from marrying that girl Nicole, I'd do so.

"Yes."

Her face hardened at my certain one-word reply, eyes narrowing to slits. Lifting her chin upward, her nostrils flared in the process. I would have laughed at this ridiculous action if I wasn't so surprised at myself. "Fine," she spoke, the motherly tone in her voice completely gone without a trace. "Bring the girl. I want to meet her by ten o' clock."

I gulped. Staying nonchalant, I nodded. If I stayed longer then I would've heard her crying for chicken for comfort.

I dashed to the garage and took the black Aston Martin. It was less... conspicuous. But the problem right now was not how noticeable the car was, not to mention the countless security cars that'll be tailing me wherever I go. At this moment, I only had one dilemma on my mind: I need a girl.

~∞~

Minhiya's POV

"Noona, can I share your blanket?" I glanced down, finding a small boy, around six years old, staring up at me with huge bug-eyes.

"Go find your own blanket," I snapped coldly, wrapping the dirty quilt closer to my body. Then I realised how aggressive I'd sounded. All these years without Jonghyun... I've hardened, turned to stone. I glimpsed at the little boy again, but he didn't seem any where near upset.

"Mianhe... Oh! I should've introduced myself first!" He was chatting away to himself rather than to me, which I thought was adorable. He almost made me jump when he spoke again, voice like a chiming bell of pure innocence. "My name is Taemin." He beamed. The cute little smile made me melt, thinking about how bitter I was to everything and everyone, ever since the day Jonghyun had left. This boy made me feel guilty about my own actions, nevertheless, instead of hating Taemin, I came to be fond of this kid.

"I'm sorry, Taemin." I handed over the quilt without hesitating, even putting its brown/cream checkered pattern over his shoulders, ensuring that he was warm in the bundle. The one beam had broken the heart of stone inside me, and replaced it with a new, pulsing heart that now had a reason to live. "There~"

Ruffling his overgrown mass of stringy, orangey-red hair, I watched as Taemin fluttered his eyes close sleepily. I smiled warmly. I'd protect this kid no matter what. 

~∞~

Although I've lost track of time not knowing what the date was, I'm sure it was winter. And even though there were still many shops opened and citizens were in their cars beeping at each other, the sky was dark now. I leaned back into the wall behind me, head hanging back in order to stargaze. The night was an endless oblivion; a glittering void up high. I exhaled, raw smoke, white as bone, exiting my mouth and rising up into the damp air.

I reached into the inside-pocket of my ancient coat (one I've totally grown out of) and took out Jonghyun's journal. It still looked the same since the day he had given it to me. The lush velvet cover was wine red and appeared so ornate and intricate that it should've belonged to some kind of immortal. Jonghyun was almost immortal, anyway. I half-smiled at my own joke.

I traced through the tiny book, memorizing every single letter contained in every page. I giggled quietly while recalling some of the moments cherished together. It seemed as if the whole of his diary was full of memories that we've both shared. Almost. I flipped to near the end of the journal, a page I'd never noticed before. It read:

Minhiya is sleeping right now. I think this will be the last time I write in this diary.

I'm drawing her at the same time as writing this.

I turned the next page. Sure enough, there was an illustration of a young girl, thirteen years of age, I'd know her anywhere. It was me, six years in the past. Additionally, Jonghyun had scrawled my name beside the portrait. My eyes grew glassy. He drew so beautifully. This fantasy of Minhiya--of myself--was far more enchanting than the real me. The chilly tears escaped from the corners of my eyes. Not wanting to stop, I turned back to the previous page and carried on reading.

I hope she won't be mad at me for staring at her so much while she is in her sleep. I've always wanted to be an artist, so I guess this would be my last chance, too.

If I were to live my life as one, I'd paint and draw Minhiya everyday. I'll never grow tired. I love her that much.

Minhiya, if you're reading this, I love you. You are my stars and sky, you are the Sun that keeps me alive in winter. You are my Juliette and I'm Romeo. But, one day, you'll find another Romeo, a better Romeo. He won't have to leave you, like I will. I hope you'd understand.

I understand. The tears were streaming down my face like rivers now, and I was biting on my lower lip, desperate to keep it in. Jonghyun wouldn't want to see me cry.

I love you and I always will.

Promise me you'll

--Without warning, a hand snatched at the petite journal. I glared at the hand for a few seconds, then up into its face. It was a boy. He looked my age, if not a tiny bit older. He was tall, with dyed blonde hair. The style was unusual, but he managed to pull it off. But style was not on my mind right now.

"Give it back!" I smacked at his hand, but that only made him tease me further. He lifted the book higher into the air. I shot him a death stare.

He looked slightly freaked out, then, unexpectedly, he chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry," he began. Thinking that he'd hand it back, I grinned gloriously. However, he just chucked it away behind him. I just stared, my eyes widening in utter shock. "I seriously don't have time for this. You have to come with me." Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed at my arm and dragged me to a sleek black car. It looked expensive.

"Taemin!" I cried, clawing at the window. The blonde-haired boy looked at me in confusion.

"My name is not Taemin." He blinked. Abruptly, he began chatting away all at once. "Oh, I totally forgot to introduce myself. I'm Key. You see, Onew-umma"--he spat the word out--"wants me to marry Nicole. But I don't want to, so I told her I have a girlfriend as a lame excuse. She wants to see the girl. She wants to see you." He looked at me with his dark eyes. "You have to help me."

I did not know what he was on about, but Taemin was out there all alone in that murky alleyway after I vowed to protect him. "Taemin!" I pointed at the little boy through the window. Key--or whatever name he called himself--finally understood. He wind down the windows and clicked his fingers at a large-looking man. The man was dressed in a black suit, black tie, complete with black sunglasses. He rushed to a sleeping Taemin and picked him up, carrying the poor boy bridal-style. "Don't hurt him!"

"Don't worry," Key told me firmly. "They work for me." They? I gawped at all the other men-in-black, and the numerous black cars that were twins with the one I was held hostage in. "You have to help me," he repeated. His voice was so miserable now.

I nodded, not knowing what else to do. At least I knew Taemin was safe. And... I had a reason to live now, right?

"Oh, and we've got to get you out of those clothes. They're so six years ago." If only you knew, I smiled to myself. "I know a store that opens until 10PM."

~∞~

No One's POV

It was raining now. Not pouring, but spitting lightly onto the road and pavement.

The drizzle was going over the pages of Jonghyun's journal, and the ink inside was leaking now.

Picking up the deep red velvet book, he didn't turn the page. It was the one where Minhiya hadn't finished reading.

Jonghyun smiled warmly as he re-read the words of his own. Promise me you'll move on.

"See?" He said aloud, speaking to Minhiya. Wherever she was, he thought, she was in a better place.

Jonghyun smiled again.

~

Author's Notes

I hope it's not too depressing and long~ (: My first one-shot. I think it was too complicated, tho.

So whaddya think? Is Jonghyun still alive? Or was it just his peaceful spirit?

How do you think Onew-umma will react to the new Minhiya, whom had done a whole make-over thanks to Key.

I hope you guys enjoy~ And please read my other fanfic, Love Song:

http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/38554

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