“I’m,” he exhales a deep breath, “…so ing stupid,” he murmured to himself after he hung his head low as he clutched his shaved head in despair, preferring to sit in the middle of the empty and slightly dusty guest room.

“Jiho ya… You know it’s not your fault, my dear,”

He heard you but muted himself and shuts himself off of the world. Including you. 



The stress Jiho faces since debut has been a ing pain in the . Being the leader of Block B, he holds the greatest responsibility in the group. It hurts you to see him suffer so much, but you can’t do anything to help him except give him moral support. You and Jiho have been dating way back, since before debut. You’ve seen the kind of he went through to be where he is now. You guys are madly in love but rarely have time for each other. At most you guys can only kiss each other good night since he’s always in the studio and you don’t get to meet him in the day. But sometimes not even a text message when they go overseas for a concert and such. You understand his situation. Jiho feels awfully sorry for this, for this complicated relationship, one that he thinks you shouldn’t deserve. You’ve watched him debut and worked so hard, shedding his own blood, tears and sweat. From that most painful moment, where you watched his shaved head grow into a much lovely hairstyle, as he too matures much more into the man that he is now, as he continues to stand strong up till today.



Jiho comes home at close to 2am. He groggily enters the appartment, dragging his jacket across the carpeted floor. At the sound of him unlocking the door, you already jumped out of your seat to greet him with a quick peck on his lips. 

“I’m tired, I’ll shower and go to bed,” Jiho said as he pulls his maroon sweater over his head, leaving him in a white wife beater, and then went into the bathroom.

You sighed and switched off your laptop before plopping yourself into bed next to Jiho. You loved how fresh he smells right after he takes a shower. It was pretty chilly in the room which made him feel drowsier. He grabbed the closest t-shirt he could see and quickly wore it, groaning a little in pain when he put his arms through the sleeves, probably because he had been slouching in the studio, editing and mixing the audios all day long. Because he groaned, you knew his back and shoulders were aching. You placed your hands on Jiho’s shoulders to give him a light massage. But he tapped your hand and told you, “It’s okay, thank you, but I want to sleep.”

You felt it. Right at that moment, everything just fell to pieces. This was it, this was when you started feeling the lack of affection from Jiho. It’s been a month since you realized this but you couldn’t confirm whether it was just you. Because 2 weeks ago, Block B filed a lawsuit against their company. Stress, both of you are stressed. But you knew Jiho was a ing inch to falling into depression. You didn’t want to torture him further, because the relationship was perfectly fine, just that time was a problem. Ever since the Thailand incident, Block B has been working so ing hard for every comeback, to repay their beloved BBCs. Repay them for trying their very best to encourage Block B to not lose hope. Sending mentions on Twitter, sending lovely handwritten letters, and much more. It was heartwarming. Those handwritten letters were extremely touching, you ever saw Jihoon tearing up while reading them the last time you hung out with them in their dorm.

You breathed in deeply to calm down, with the sweet lingering smell of freshly-showered-Jiho, persuading yourself, telling yourself that he’s just tired, that he’s just ended work, that he needed time to rest, that he’s not in the mood to be affectionate with you. It’ll all be over soon once the results are out. 

Jiho was fast asleep after he refused the massage from you. You got up, went over to him and gave him a kiss on his cheeks and slowly moved back to your side of the bed, so he won’t wake up. 



“Honey, we need to talk,” Jiho stopped you by holding your wrist before you managed reached out to the sugar cubes to put into his coffee. His cold fingertips were wrapped around your small wrist. You missed this. This comfortable feeling of his hand around your wrist to pull you closer to his body to hug you so tight, to share the warmth between you two. But this time, it was different. He had a serious tone. It’s been so long since he held your hand because you couldn’t remember the last time you both had any skinship. 

“What is it?” you asked, and then relaxed your arm. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a deep, shaky breath. 

“I know we’ve been apart for some time. It’s been so long since I last asked you out, last hugged you, last kissed you, last…” he sighed, “basically last of everything.”

He cupped your hands and looked into your eyes. His eyes were so dark and troubled. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes started tearing up. You pursed your lips. You couldn’t believe he was saying this. You knew all this while what he was going through, and you didn’t mind at all. But, you missed him. A lot. 

“Oppa, you know I don’t mind. I don’t mind you putting me aside at times for your career, you dream, your future. But don’t push me away. I really miss you,” you said, while trying to sort out the painful words into something that the both of you could agree to. 

Both of you stood there in silence. With your back against his chest, his hands around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You wriggled out of his embrace, turned, and gave him the most comforting hug, assuring him it’s fine, and him assuring you he’ll try to improve. 



“Jiho, look, I’ve been by your side all along. Who’s the one who’s at doubt? You or me? You, right? Why are you doing this?”

It was dusk and the gradually increasing darkness in the kitchen was drowning each others’ sight. Quarrelling day after day, only to stop when Jiho says “You know what, you put an end to this and make up your mind” and then picks up his jacket and wallet and leaves to spend the night at the studio. Every night you took sleeping pills to get rid of the thoughts piling in your mind. Every night you went to bed with your pillows drenched in tears, clutching onto your mobile phone as if your life depended on it just in case Jiho calls you, although he didn’t. At all.

Nothing could make him believe you anymore. You tried. You tried your hardest. From excessive skinship to getting him every now and then, initiating just for the sake of communicating between the both of you although in such way. Such bad luck, his stubborn mind and his big head still wouldn’t improve at the end of the day. 

The dead silence was deafening. Jiho was in deep thoughts, finding for words. You took a deep breath and spoke up.

“We’ve been going out for years now. I love you, and I trust you.”

“But… something has been bugging me. Do you… really love me?”

“Of course I do! Why do you think I’m still here after all the ed up bull you’ve been through since day 1 I knew you?” 

“No, I mean, are you faking this?”

“What?” You were confused as hell. What is he saying?

“Out of pity? Because I’m a sore loser? A er who doesn’t even know how to take care of himself yet has a girlfriend? A failure who doesn’t have much to his name? Because I would be hopeless without you? Because my hollow fame is because I have a girlfriend?”

In between his sentences you kept repeating “Jiho, stop.”

You palmed your chest. You were this close to getting an anxiety attack. Jiho was glaring at you with his eyebrows knitted. The both of you were breaking out in cold sweat from yelling at each other all night. 

“You know what, let’s end this here.” 

“Fine.”

Your head started throbbing furiously. You packed your stuff. Dumped a jacket, your clothing, some undergarments and your valuables into your bag. Knowing Jiho and his attitude, he left the apartment first. 

You heard the door slam. You were right.

And knowing Zico, you knew he went to the studio to rap the hell out of his anger. Rapping till his mouth goes dry, till his lips bleeds, refusing to take a break. You’ve witnessed this. That one time someone indirectly dissed him through a mixtape. 

You were more than worried, but the relationship is over. There was nothing you could do.



“Yeah, you know Zico. That stubborn jerk. Sticks only to his own opinion.” 

Kyung added on after you told him what happened. He flicked his cigarette, watching the ashes disappear.  

“Being his bestfriend is a pain in the at times. You gotta be patient handling him. But he’s a good guy. Hang in there.” 

You chugged another bottle of soju and zoned out. Jihoon knitted his eyebrows as he stared at the ground and tilted his head as if he found something not right with Jiho. He tightened his grip around the neck of the soju glass bottle.

“Hmm, Kyung, don’t you realize this? Jiho rarely gets insecure over stuffs. If he does, huge chance Noona means something to Jiho.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. It’s 4am. Let’s go.”



Kyung sees Jiho with his back facing him, slouching over his notebook filled with lyrics as precious as gold, scribbling really quickly when he thinks of a new rap. Kyung stood there at the door, observing the surrounding. The atmosphere in the studio was no good. The atmosphere felt dark and heavy. He glances over at the dustbin beside the door filled with crumpled paper. It was quiet; only filled with Jiho’s murmuring of new raps he just thought of. And suddenly, Kyung hears grumbling followed by a paper being crushed and then thrown at his direction. He watches he crumpled paper bounce on his thigh and onto the floor.

“Dude, I’ve been standing here for 10 minutes and you don’t even notice?” 

Jiho shifts his body, turns his head, and faces Kyung. Kyung took a good look at his bestfriend from head to toe. Jiho’s lips were so dry, it bled, leaving his lips full of dried blood. His dark circles were so obvious. It looked like each strand of his hair had a life of its own; he was a mess. 

“You’re here. I didn’t ask you to come.”

While Jiho monotonously replied by dragging word by word, Kyung opened a new bottle of mineral water and shoved it into Jiho’s hands. 

“Drink up.”

Confused, and thirsty, he took only 5 gulps to finish the whole bottle.

“What is up with you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? I’ve known you since forever. er, don’t fool me.”

Jiho let out a lifeless chuckle. Kyung sits on the couch, carefully planning what he has to say to Jiho in his mind.

“Dude, you and her have been together this whole time. Way since before you even entered the music industry. If you believe she’s still with you because she pities you, I think you need to sort out your god damn thoughts. You can’t just doubt her and give up on the relationship like this! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Kyung, it makes sense. Look, I’ve become even more pathetic than I was when I started dating her. What mess am I now, to be a loser in all that I’ve done so far? Nothing’s working for me. I don’t believe anyone would wanna date me in this state. Who in the right mind would? I wouldn’t date someone like me either. Hell, I doubt she’s still in love with me. My pathetic look brought us this far in this relationship, eh.”

Kyung knew very well where he’s coming from and what he means. 

“You’ve become a mess and now you’re just gonna leave her? How about her? You think you’re the only one suffering? It’s as hard for her as it is for you. She’s on the verge of giving up on everything and you’re just gonna let her go? Is this what you really want? Wake the up.”

The both of them stay silent. Jiho digests what Kyung just said. What he said was indeed a tight slap on his face.

“I’m going home.”

Jiho takes his notebook and mobile phone, switches off the main power to the studio, leaving Kyung sitting in the dark.