Jongin awoke in the night, his paper leaving imprints on his cheeks, lines drawn parallel to his jawline. He had fallen asleep while reading under the dim light as a result of a dream of Ken. He sighed a little and scratched the back of his head in frustration – it wasn’t the first time and he wished to stop himself from dreaming of the manner in which Ken left him yet it never stopped haunting him. He slammed his palm against the book lying on the table. It was rare to see him spending time on books under the quiet illumination of his lamp because of his intense love with being amongst the beats of dances. Yet he was excited a while ago, a little surprised at what had happened the day before; he honestly looked forward to the days he would spend with Sehun; it felt entirely surreal to have been given a chance to start anew and perhaps rise back to his sanguine self amongst the gloomy atmosphere which still hung low in his unit. He had pulled himself out of the gelid pond of despair, and threw stones back against the ripples of regret and the humming of dark silhouettes; he was no longer the one in the dusty corners, no longer a monochrome tainted canvas but rather one with unspoken hues of happiness – dark grey mixe together with peach on a stained palette as he smiled while slumping towards the support of an unfeeling table; he was bravely in love; and he longer required the help of alcohol to feel a little love. The floor was dappled with pale moonlight as he looked out at the sky, his hands cold once again under the relentless chills of the whirring ceiling fan in the middle of the living room ceiling.  It was exhilarating, how the mere touch of Sehun’s fingers against his cold palm gave him such comfort and support – him being around was more than enough; and Jongin felt lucky. Eyeing the photo album which Sehun had left on the table a day ago, he sighed and beant forward to pick it up.

“It’s time to start anew. You wanted me to do so didn’t you?” Jongin got up and placed the album in one of the empty slots on his book shelf. He turned to the table and found his phone which he hadn’t touched for a day or two. This was exactly what happened on a weekly basis when his ailments acted up; he would’ve been too engrossed in heaving himself to the practice room – he flicked it open to see Sehun’s message from the other day, his concern teeming through the words. Jongin smiled a little.

“Ah so someone was concerned ;)” Jongin typed quietly as he walked around the living room before stopping at the window. He hadn’t felt so light as though he could go anywhere he wanted. Peering down at the busy street, he wondered what Sehun was doing a level below.

Sehun looked over at the phone on the edge of the table as he placed the things he had been working on down on the glass surface, the beads threatening to roll off the table onto his carpet as he sighed angrily and placed them back into the tin can in front of him. His phone had lit up as he reached over to get it, his hands warm. He had turned the air-conditioning off suddenly in the middle of the night as he felt its prickly coldness against his skin. Muttering angrily he had walked over to get the remote to turn it off. He