"Who was she?"

"My bestest friend...but I've never seen her. She'd never seen me. We don't even talk, online or off, but that's what makes us closer than anyone else..."

Sungmin rubs his nape as his listens closely to the words that his patient speaks. He was a thirty-five year old male, somehow just realizing that there's more to the internet than typing, e-mailing, and saving work documents all the time. He claims that he speaks to someone online, but apparently he'd just admitted that he'd never seen, talk, let alone know the person. Sungmin mentally cries inside his head.

It's been over, what, five–seven(?) years since he'd started working as a high school counselor, and a therapist. He thought that being there to help people with their mental sickness, or being the person they come to when they have problems, would've been a fun job.

Well, he thought wrong.

So ing wrong, that it makes him want to actually sit down at the corner of his room, and cry about how much he hates his job and his life.

And his boyfriend.

That thought in mind, Sungmin glances over to the clock hanged above the entrance door. He sighs, and jots down the last bits of notes on his patient before tapping the end of his pen against the page of the notepad. "Alright, that's our time for today, Mr...uh.. Park Jungsoo," he pauses, reads over the male's profile and switches his glances between the paper and the actual person in front of him. He shakes his head. He must not be getting enough sleep. "I'll see you again in a week, thank you." He said.

As soon as the male left the room, Sungmin sat himself back onto the chair and practically sinks into it. Even if it was nothing near as comfortable as the couch at his house, but for a twenty-eight year-old, working until 2AM everyday, and having to listen to people's problems 24/7, the chair was almost like heaven. Sungmin sighs, once more.

However, as if fate disliked him, for some apparent reason, his phone starts to vibrate. His whole body flinches, and his M-shaped lips purse.

"Gee...I can't be left alone for more than five minutes, can I?" He whispers to himself and reaches for the device. The caller ID shows someone very familiar to him. Very familiar. And because he's very familiar, Sungmin knew that if he were to put the phone to sleep and pretend as if nobody even called, he'd be receiving complaints all night when he gets home. And no, he does not need that. A beautiful person's gotta sleep to maintain the beauty–and to do that, he has to answer the god damned phone call.

"Yes, Jongwoon hyung?" He speaks to the other on the line. He hears the person shuffling around and even probably grinning widely that his lips may have reached both of his ears. "You picked up the phone!" The older exclaimed.

"Indeed I did...what is it?"

"Ddangkoma is missing."

Sungmin swore, the inner goddess slash devil inside his heart screamed in unison as soon as his body was lied flat to the floor, his head turned under the couch, and there it was. A baby Russian tortoise about 2/4 the size of an average human’s hand, crawling as if it wasn’t the reason that Sungmin had to run the red light, get a ing ticket for it, trip in front of the house and bang his nose on the doorknob, and forget his work phone at the office. “There you are, you piece of--”

There was a crash coming from the garage.

Sungmin quickly reaches under the couch and pulls the tortoise out, making sure that he was all possibly careful with the animal until it finally reached its cage. He wasted no time in running outside, again, and yes, without shoes on.

The image in front of him literally stopped his heart for almost one full minute. He stands there, right? He stands there. His eyes were locked...on his ing car, backed up half way through the garage door, the alarm sounding loudly, and the airbag inside the car had even popped out. Sungmin was lost for words. His baby...his poor little baby that his brother bought for him...it was an Audi, for ’s sake and, and…

“10 out of 10!!!” A man yelled, followed by a loud thump to the floor. Sungmin notices that the car door finally opens, but there’s one thing that he knows better. The person who drove his Jennifer into the garage, without even opening the damn thing.

Sungmin screams--inside his head. “Hyung, what the actual did you just do.” Why bother asking. That happened, exactly. And he’s left with no other choice but to pull out his phone and immediately call the insurance company. Along while, the slightly taller male pulls himself off the floor and makes his way towards the pink-lover with a childish, ridiculously wide grin. Sungmin eyes him as he speaks, but says nothing to the man whatsoever. He notices the blood on his boyfriend’s head, and so he brings his hand up and softly pats the area, as soon as Jongwoon was in a distance.

“Oh look, I’m bleeding.” The elder spoke, as if it was nothing.

Sungmin shakes his head. Sometimes he questions himself; how did he even stand being in a relationship with a brain damage for so long...

But then, he shifts his eyes to the soft scar on Jongwoon's temple, and the answer to his question speaks.

If only he wasn't stupid, if only he didn't cheat. If only he'd held on a bit tighter, they wouldn't have fought, and the car wouldn't have fell over the egde on that one stormy night. Sungmin remembered it too well, that the trip was so happy, only seconds before a damn MMS was sent to Jongwoon's phone by an anonymous. It was his fault that Jongwoon's like this. It was his fault that the older's memory had lost, most of it, and that his brain works almost to that of a young child.

He looks at the bleeding male again, and once again for proably the nth time since 6 years ago until now, he feels the tears urging up in his eye sockets. The bridge of his nose sores, and he realizes that he'd been spacing out on the phone call.

Sungmin quickly pulls himself back on track. He, nevertheless, pulls the older man inside and did not hesitate to treat the wound. It isn't that he fears for the consequences of hurting an mentally-ill, or the consequences that he may receive from the people who were acknowledged that he had not paid attention well, when he lives with someone at such mental stability. However, it is the fear of hurting himself, and Jongwoon, once again.

Hours passed.

The atmosphere inside a large house that may seem so cozy and warm to others, but empty and cold in a person's eyes, becomes utterly quiet. Sungmin lies still, on the wooden floor, with his head rested on Jongwoon's, who was lying in a slightly different direction, thigh. Their breaths mixed as the room temperature slowly decreases. The winter snow falls outside, but neither do they care. Neither do they bother to turn on the heater, or grab a blanket.

White walls of the house becomes their blanket.

Their heart beats become music.

Their hands that held tighter and tighter, as if never to let go, becomes heat.

In this winter, Jongwoon and Sungmin needed nothing else. Just the two of them, together, was enough. At least, Sungmin thought so.

"Hyung," he whispers, his voice hoarse from the lack of speaking for the past hour or so. He'd lost track of time, but he didn't care. "Do you think we'll be doing this forever?"

"Do you think we'd be together, like this, until we both grow old, until our hairs become white like platinum, until our backs crack every time we walk? Until we were surrounded by our grandchildren, and until we sit in rocking chairs while telling bedtime stories to them? Do you think that, forever, as long as our hands hold tight, like this, we'll be each other's warmth?"

There was no answer.

Sungmin blinks softly, but he feels that it was so hard to even move a muscle. His hand holds even tighter to Jongwoon's own. He feels the temperature dropping slowly, and as it did, his heart sinks deep under the pool of his own tears. A stream of, what felt like, burning hot liquid rolls down the sides of his face.

"You know, you're crazy. You might not notice it, but you're insane. It's not your mental health that makes you crazy...it's not the internal bleeding in your brain that gives you less that what we needed, that makes you crazy, hyung,"

"It's the fact that...you've always known who I was, that makes you crazy. You're crazily smart. You've fooled me for so long, that you've lost all, but some of your memories, of us together. You knew that I cheated--no, you know it. Even now..."

Sungmin finally moves. He turns over, but refuses to look at the male's face. He wraps his arms around the still body next to him and buries his face to the elder's stomach. His words from then become inaudible, but it didn't matter...

Because no one would be there to listen to him anyway.

His two fingers slowly lift upwards, and without looking, Sungmin pats them softly on Jongwoon's eyelids, closing them down. From then on, the house was emptier than ever. There will only be one clock moving forward. There will only be one person sitting on the couch and eating that bag of potato chips. There will only be one person that sleeps on the huge bed made for two. There will only be one.

And in this world, there will be one less mad man, who'd fallen crazy in love with someone named Lee Sungmin.