14.

Jieun and I weren't a part of a call-when-bored relationship. In fact, she probably wouldn't have been on my list of numbers to call when in trouble either. She could even make up on the top ten of people not to call when in trouble.

She and I weren't close at all.

We weren't on smiles and chat basis during school and sure as hell, now, when I saw her around even less, we weren't friendly now.

That's why I thought maybe I was dreaming when her name popped up on caller ID. Surprise? Sure as hell, it shook me up enough to miss the first call, staring a little dumbly into my cell instead of answering. It didn't really sink in my head that she'd called until the call dropped and left me with a blue flashing light reminding me of a missed call I supposedly wasn't aware of.

The next call, however, I managed to grab, shaking my head a little to clear the confusion.

Jieun and I didn't call each other. We didn't before, so why start now?

(It wasn't as if I took her invitation to "call any time" seriously; and I had been nearly positive she hadn't meant it either. Apparently she had.)

"Hello? Himchan?"

After a minute of silence - because I still wasn't sure whether I was just seeing things (highly likely, judging my lack of sleep the past few days) - she was the one to speak up first. Again, surprises.

"O-oh! Hi." Because it really was her, and I wasn't just dreaming. Or hallucinating.

There was a snort and giggle on the other end of the line. I could only conclude that she was laughing at me. She hadn't changed much at all.

"Hi? Is that all you've got to say?"

If maybe she was actually in front of me, and not conversing via mobile, she might've read the annoyance in grunt. Then again, it wasn't as if she would have done much about it either way.

“Why’d you call?” I sighed, shifting my backpack to rest properly on my shoulder. Something told me this conversation was going to be worth more than just a simple afternoon greeting. It wouldn’t end with just a ‘what-did-you-have-for-lunch?’. (And I’d yet to figure out whether this was a good thing or not.)

From the other end of the line, Jieun gave a little huff, the light shuffling sounds probably meaning she’d moved her phone to her other ear.

We weren’t friendly, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know her well enough to understand her exact positions. Right now, she’d be sitting down, on a chair or with her propped up against a desk. Her legs would be crossed, one of the other, while she squished her phone between her cheek and shoulder. More than likely, her screen would be caked in make-up by now, cheek warm from the heat of the phone.

Call me observative; Jieun wasn’t a hard character to read anyways.

(Girls were all the same anyways - watching my sister taught me a thing or two.)

“Well,” she huffed, “since you wouldn’t call me, thought I’d go ahead and call you first.”

“Jieun.”

“I’m going to France.”

I’d opened my mouth to say something else - to tell her to off (though in nicer terms) because Kyuhyun threatened to kill me if I didn’t show up today - but nothing came out as her words find their way to my head. “France?” After babbling mutely like a fish, that was the best I could come up with. “Why France?”

“Why not France?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Mom and dad thought it’d be best for me if I got to study abroad. Plus, France seems pretty cool. Paris is the city of love you know? That’s pretty romantic, don’t you think? Well, doesn’t matter what you think, cause I’m at the airport now anyways.”

Another giggle.

I didn’t understand her sometimes.

“Now? Like, right now?” I paused, pursing my lips at the snort from the other end. “You just asked and they said yes?”

“Well, they offered last year, really; but hey, they’re not allowed to set an expiry on me.”

“Didn’t you say that you weren’t planning on going anywhere for a while?”

It had been one of the only legitimate conversation we had after last meeting at the coffee shop. She had mentioned something about missing the calm - written calm, read boring - neighborhood, how she wanted to say and relax from rushing around the busy atmosphere of Gangnam (I told her she was crazy).

“Changed my mind.”

I didn’t, couldn’t, understand why. But who was I to judge.

France was way better than our hometown anyways. Anytime. Anyday.

“So I expect you to take care of Junhonggie and Yongguk while I’m gone, you hear? If I find out that Junhonggie’s ever cried, I’ll skin you alive! I’ll come out in your dreams and make sure you can’t ever get a peaceful night of sleep!

“So … … take care of him for me, please.”

I didn’t know much at all about Jieun; about a mother.

How a mother feels during her pregnancy, feeling the little er kick and cause all the mischief it could do within its mommy’s stomach. And then later, how it feels to hold her child, and crying (babies were ugly creatures, don’t disagree), feeling its tiny heart beat up against its reddened skin. How it feels to know that life had been born from within your own body.

I’ll never be able to do know, to understand, but if there was one thing I did know, it was that Jieun had gone though a lot. Possibly more than Yongguk himself.

How it must have felt to hold her bloated stomach and endure through the pains of labor, just the same as all the other mothers in the world, only to never be able to smile at the bloody child that would make the months of agony all better. How it feels now, to have Junhong so close in reach, and yet so far away.

My mom had told me I was a kicker. I’d kick at all he inappropriate times and have the most moodiest of appetites. She’d told me that there were several points of the long months she held me that she’d thought of abortion. That the thought had only disappeared after she held me close in her arms. When dad patted her gently on her shoulder, telling her she’d done a gone job.

What about Jieun, who’d gotten neither Junhong nor the pat on the shoulder?

“Do you promise?”

There wasn’t any reason to hesitate.

“I promise.”

It wouldn’t have been right of me to say no anyways. She was practically wrapping my happier past months of my life in a golden ribbon and handing it straight back over.

She was crazy; down-right out of her mind.

“Good.” A sniff, “I gave him my number. If he ever calls and says that you’re being a meany, I’m flying right back over and kicking your .”

She had to go after that, the announcement ringing in the far distance for anyone departing for France from Seoul. That gave barely enough time for us to say good bye, Jieun busily grabbing her carry-on bags.

“Tell Junhonggie that pretty noona loves him.”

She never said mommy.

I wished I knew why.

But I think I know, now, why Yongguk might’ve fallen in love, head over heels, way out of his league.

They were all crazy.

Only after the call ended, did I remember what I had been doing before the call. By now, class doors would have closed, and what would have been worse than walking in during the middle of a lecture. Losing one point for missing class was a far more likeable option to having the whole class stare as I walked in.

With that, it was too easily decided that I’d skip today.

Wasn’t as if we ever did anything interesting during musical history (two) anyways.

In exchange, what I really needed was a cup of coffee - though, what I got instead was hot chocolate.

I’d maybe spent a good five minutes staring glumly at my cup, sighing along the way, when a hand came on my shoulder. Automatic reaction: scream and slap away the hand.

Next: scream some more and complain at Kyuhyun for scaring me.

He was laughing as I threatened to having almost thrown my - now cold - cup of hot chocolate - or would it have been just chocolate since the hot was gone (lukewarm chocolate?) - at his face. He would have deserved the murky brown stains. All the more deserving if the brown never washed out. Karma.

I didn’t though, and Kyuhyun made sure to tease me for it, shaking his head and screwing my hair as he did every day we ran into each other. Only this time, he made sure to fix it after.

(People were being weird today.)

When he realized I’d skipped class, instead of scolding, as he should have, Kyuhyun shrugged, going to the front for a drink, and then taking the seat across from me without a single invitation. He offered to drink with me - though, I wasn’t really looking forward to that -, sliding over to me what seemed like a cup of coffee.

Americano. Venti.

I almost choked in tears.

Glancing, glaring, at the mug in front, I frowned, immediately taking my hot chocolate and chugging it down. It was the only way I could hold back from taking the drink and getting totally bust by Kyuhyun. Unfortunately, my caffeine abstinence was still going on.

By this though, Kyuhyun laughed, pushing the cup closer to me.

It was weird. Everyone was being weird today.

I didn’t like weird.

“Take it, I got it for you.”

I glared at him, tilting my chin down to give a proper glare. Because, who was he kidding? I was Kim Himchan, I knew he’d just hit me upside the head and take the drink the minute I set my fingers around it. He’d call me a foolish grasshopper, thinking he’s some ninja sempai from some japanese movie.

(Well I wasn’t falling for it.)

We had a sort of glare off, him pushing the warm cup closer for every passing minute. Until it stood, mockingly, right in front of me, just a finger’s reach away from being mine.

“I’m serious, Himchan. You can have it.”

It was probably out of pure reflexes that I was still tensed up when I took the cup, flinching, expecting, when he moved his arm up to brush his bangs out of his eyes. (He laughed at me. I glared.)

“What’s up,” I questioned, examining the one-use cup with a careful eye. Just in case he’d poisoned it or something. “Why’re you just handing me coffee? I thought you wanted me off of this.”

“It’s over.” He was smiling. He needed to stop. “You’re off your ban.”

“What, are my parents refusing to pay you? They should’ve known this counseling wouldn’t work from the start. I did tell them.”

By this point, the lure of caffeine had won over and I’d taken a much longed for sip.

(Though, it wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it’d be.)

“Don’t push it,” Kyuhyun rolled, folding his hands - professionally - on the table top. “I’ve been watchin you,” (“Like some creepy stalker”) “and I say you’ve changed enough to say our sessions are over.”

I lifted a brow, and he elaborated, taking a long drink from his own cup of what I assumed was green tea.

“You haven’t tried to pawn me out of drinking coffee in a while. I haven’t heard Hyungjun complain about you abusing him and most importantly, you’ve stopped coming to me for everything. In fact, I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you for the past month or so, have I?”

I had to backtrack for that one, frowning and counting with my fingers.

I’d been busy the past few months. With Junhong. Yongguk. Joonmyun.

“You’ve busied yourself with your friends instead of complaining about everything that you didn’t like.” What he meant was that I’d become a better liar than when we’d first met. That I’d learned to actually learned to keep my mouth shut. That was the only way, reason, he’d be smiling as he said this.

“You look a little less dull from when we’d first met. Not that you’re any much of a looker now either.”

The list went a little on past that, each excuse bringing another inch up to my eyebrows. By the time he was done, my eyebrows, I’m sure, had reached up to my hairline. Kyuhyun was being ridiculous.

“You’re done, you little stinker,” Kyuhyun completed, understanding I wasn’t quite getting why he was trying - failing - to compliment me. “And don’t you dare relapse, I’ve had enough of you.”

Now that scowl he had on now was the one I was more used to.

“You just want to get rid of me,” I laughed.

He might of agreed. He might of not. Kyuhyun shrugged and leaned a little back in his seat, rolling his wrist at me. “Whatever, now get out of my sight. Don’t want to see you.”

And that was enough for me.

Sticking my tongue out at him, I scraped my chair leg back and hopped out, hopscotching just out of his reach out and away. Before he got a chance to swipe at me.

In conclusion, I’d confirmed that today was a weird day. And that saying at school, where everything weird started and ended, would just continue the queer streak. It was best to go home instead.

But it must have been me radiating the weird, not school.

Because strange followed me all the way home.

When I got to the apartment, I found Hyungjun’s car sitting on the nearest parking slot, where he usually parked his beat up death-on-wheels. That meant he was either in the house, let in by Yongguk, who didn’t know better than to let the idiot in, or in front of the door, freezing his off. (Would it have been wrong of me to wish for the second of the two options?)

Luckily, my wish came true - the first time today anything went my way -, Hyungjun was freezing his off at the doorway, blowing steam into his hands. He considerably brightened up when he saw me, his lips pulling up the widest I’d seen them go in while - since he’d first met Chihoon.

“Himchan!”

I may have thought he was actually excited to see me, if he didn’t decide to jump me then and there, putting me in the world’s most uncomfortable head-lock. It didn’t help that I had a good inch or two (or four) above him.

“Let go!” It took a little bit of struggling before I was able to pull myself back up. Though, this time, with a blindfold over my eyes. “What’s this about?” When I tried to get it off, Hyungjun pulled my hand away, slapping it with a snicker. The little er.

He pulled my hands back down, taking one arm and supposedly guiding me forward. “Just shh and follow me, aright mommy?”

I scoffed, shooting my feet out somewhere in front of me, smiling in victory when Hyungjun yelped.

I hope that bruised in the morning.

Cursing under his breath, purposely leading me into a wall with a mock apology, Hyungjun dragged me into was I supposed - hoped, he’d better not be selling me off to some freak - was my apartment. And I could near swear I heard Junhong take an intake of break - the cute little gasp he’d make whenever he saw something he liked - and giggle in a space not too far away. But what did I know? I was practically blind right now.

(I’m pretty sure I heard Yongguk shushing Junhong too.

Hopefully this meant that this was home and not some weird auction place.)

The hand on my elbow led me forward, and like a little toddler, I had my hands out in front of me, fanning the space ahead for any other solid object Hyungjun could lead me into. What I got instead was something hard to the knee and a hiss of pain. Somewhere to my right, Hyungjun laughed. I took another wipe, but sadly this time missed - the bastard.

This time, after the less than pleasant crash, a different pair of hand - just one - was on me, my knee to be exact, rubbing the sting away. It crawled up to my chest and pushed. I landed in a chair and thankfully not my .

I sputtered and the blindfold was off.

Blinking and squinting, I took a minute to take observation of my surroundings.

Minus the dark, it looked like my usual kitchen. And in front of me, was the dining room table, a plate of what looked like cream pasta - my favorite - sitting in front, a glass of white wine accompanying it. And candles; can’t forget the candles.

I blinked, frowning, then swerving to look around.

“What’s this for?”

I was look at Hyungjun, but he shrugged, that cursed smirk on his face. I’d have wiped it clear off of him, if he didn’t nod over to the space in front of me, across the table, to Yongguk.

He … … cleaned up nicely.

Well, at least, better than the usual jacket or sweatshirt with jeans too loose and sagging dangerously low.

“Yongguk?”

“I - um, er.” He frowned, looking down at his cast, the sling that held it propped up against him. “I wanted to say thank you for all the help you were with Junhong,” his voice literally crawled into his throat. If I wasn’t used to his mumbling, I was sure I wouldn’t have caught a single word of it.

I understood fluent Yongguk-nese.

“I … … asked Hyungjun to help, since he’s your best friend,” since when? “And he said he’d help. And … …” He paused again here, turning up to face me with a panicked look crossing his eyes. “Oh god, this is too much, isn’t it? Is it burdensome? I thought it was because of all the … … and the pedals and balloons.” I hadn’t noticed, it being dark but, “I’m sorry.” He squeaked, the candle light making his face seem red. (But that was ridiculous.)

I laughed at him, waving his concern away. “It’s fine,” I reassured, hopefully, “it’s just … … it’s a lot just to say thanks. Could’ve just said it over pizza.” Not that I was complaining.

But this was when an intruder groaned obnoxiously. Needless to say, Hyungjun.

Way to ruin the mood.

“He likes you, alright? He wanted to confess, not thank you.”

Yongguk flopped awkwardly - the best he could with one arm - at Hyungjun’s blunt (I had to take a moment to blank out as well). He started blubbering, not that I could make much sense of it. He probably wasn’t saying much anyways.

“I-I! I wanted to say thanks too.” Yongguk’s nose wrinkled as he turned sheepishly back toward me. “I wanted to work my way up to the second part but…”

“But Hyungjun ruined it,” again, I was laughing. “Get the out, Hyungjun.”

(Junhong gasped a little, whimpering something about saying ugly words.)

Hyungjun complained about being ungrateful, but I wasn’t really listening. No one was.

“S-so, since he said it anyways…”

Yongguk looked hopeful and I took the bother of looking considerate. Just to humor him.

“Mn,” he leaned in, “might be a no.

“Might be a yes.”

The look that crossed his face was almost hilarious.

“But it’s most likely a yes.

a/n: have i ever mentioned that all of you guys are amazing?

thank you all for the cheer up messages. i can't say it enough. thank you.

the afternote will be up in an hour. i'll put it up before i go to sleep.

again, thank you all for reading and commenting. ♥