I was home in that place where Mino was somewhat present, and I laughed my heart out at lunch when Mrs. Song told episodes of her morning walks to the park.

I felt I was home; I believed I should be home because the Songs were basically family. Mrs. Song was a pure-hearted woman, and Hanbin was like a brother I’d like to know better. Home had stopped being a place, but to be very honest, the happiness seemed skin-deep.

I realized that as I once again offered to wash the dishes (Hanbin didn’t anymore insist to help) and Mrs. Song continued to tell jokes she heard from Gag Concert.

The sound of running water filled my head, and the lemon scent of the dishwashing liquid reached my nose. I lost myself then and there as I tried to focus on the dishes and complete the task without thinking more than I should.

I failed, of course, and I realized that I didn’t listen to Mrs. Song anymore. The laughter was gone, and boy did it feel so far away.

I thought company was what I needed. I thought I felt alone because I was alone, but I felt alone nonetheless, even when I was here with family, even when I ate and laughed with them.

My darkness caught up with me as I dried my hands. It conquered my feet and I hurriedly excused myself, wanting solitude. It ran up my legs and embraced me into its depth. It colored me a darker black as I locked Mino’s door behind me. It burned holes in my gut, but it was wrong to say that as it merely took off the lid. The endless abyss had always been there.

Mino was the only sun left in my life, and even though he’d witnessed the darkness dominate me bit by bit, he stayed by my side. He didn’t judge me, didn’t let me fall on my own. He was the cord that kept me from falling completely, the thread that held me close to the surface. For that reason, I couldn’t stain Mino’s vividness with my color.

My heart raced, and it was so heavy I thought it would bring me down quite literally.

A tear trickled down my cheek, and it felt like a betrayal to Mino. It felt like he could see me, so I hurriedly left his room, his house without saying a proper goodbye.

“Byul, are you okay?” A voice asked as soon as I closed the door. He might have noticed the rush in my footsteps and my flushed face, thus the question.

I looked up to see Mr. Dong’s worried eyes studying my face.

Wasn’t Mr. Dong someone who could understand me as well?

I told him ‘no’, knowing full well that lying would do the job. He always saw through me.

I expected him to pry, to ask me what was wrong, so I readied myself to tell him, but instead of the foreseen question, he asked instead, “Do you want to go som