Every step closer that he took to the school gymnasium’s warehouse seemed to get only heavier and heavier. Chanyeol could already feel the dust traveling through his naval cavity and lungs; the mere imagination of it was just so dirty. He reminded himself to breathe through his nose instead of his mouthy, keeping the latter shut despite the tingling sensation in his throat constantly urging him to cough. The recent flu virus was a persistent one—it had probably been more than two weeks that Chanyeol was sick. This was the reason for his absence in school. He hated being out (for the most obvious of reasons, Jieun), but his father had insisted that he stay home. His mother couldn’t care any less, but regardless he was grateful that she’d taken the time to bring him soup while he was bedridden.   He’d been restlessly moving around in bed, unable to fall asleep due to the fact that he’d slept the entire day through, when he received a call from Baekhyun and Jongin—they wanted to meet up. While he would usually decline going out in his condition, his gut feelings for some reason made him say yes. So, he’d thrown a warm hoodie over his head and simply headed out.   Of course, Chanyeol had no idea what he’d done the moment he stepped out of his house. It was unfair for him—having guilt thrown at his face yet again—but it was too late. He sensed it, too. The gut feeling that had been present ever since the phone call grew and ruptured the moment he bumped into Jieun, horribly pale and disoriented. Even as Jieun recognized him and looked up at him with an expression of resentment and pure hatred, he couldn’t say anything, as if his tongue had balled up and gotten stuck in the back of his throat. He couldn’t breathe, still taken aback by the unbelievably familiar turn of events, and Jieun’s messy appearance didn’t help in the slightest.   Looking back, Chanyeol thought that his (relatively short, but nevertheless strenuous) life was full of ‘should-have’s.’ He should have been born legitimately to his mother. He should have been a better son. He should have kept Junmyeon away from Jieun. He should have properly taken care of Jieun when he found her crouching in the corner of his room. He should have held her hands tightly and have been by her side as she cried. He should have taken her home. He should have been more reliable, trustworthy, and comfortable of a person to Jieun. He should have had been well. He should have come to school. He should have accompanied Jieun home after school. He should have kept her within his reach at all times. And finally, he should have held her back, not letting her walk away with her arms full of newfound misunderstandings, hatred and scars.   But in the end, he let her pass him by, and his should-haves remained as should-haves.   Chanyeol made his way towards the opposite direction from Jieun; his pace quickened into that of a sprint, his heartbeat getting just as quick and his breaths getting rough. At the warehouse, he found Jongin recovering from his slight injury and Baekhyun helping him up. “What did you do?” Chanyeol asked, his inquiry not much louder than a whisper. He knew the answer already—it was just too obvious—but he wished his friends would tell him otherwise, that everything was as joke, a simple misunderstanding, a coincidence, anything.   “You’re a bit late,” Jongin huffed, still cupping his cheek and face contorted in pain. “If you were just a few minutes early, we could have been having fun. Did you see her run out?”   He gave his response in the form of a different question. “Fun?”   Unlike Jongin, who’d been forced out of his drunken state by the earlier pain, Baekhyun was still heavily under the influence of alcohol. That was what probably impaired his ability to think, not realizing what his next few words would result in. “You followed Jieun around so you can get a chance to play around a little with her, right? We just tried to make it easier f—”   Before he could finish his sentence, Baekhyun was tackled to the floor. Chanyeol climbed atop him and began mercile