“I’m sorry.” He rang her the next day, purposely to convince her to go somewhere with him, again. She didn’t seem convinced and was in the middle of hanging up, when he continued, “I promise to spread the craziness. Am I right?” She hadn’t had real answer for that one.

“You didn’t act like yourself before.” She managed to recall, and he couldn’t help but to feel a little too offended.

There parked his blazing black Mazda along the coast of Han River – with only ten inches to spread them apart. “I’m a bipolar, you should’ve mentioned that.” He laid his carelessly on the front of the car, motioning for the girl in front of him to join the sit, but she was being herself, standing as far in the embrace of her arms.

“Alright, I’m sorry. Okay?” Where, he threw his arms up in exasperation.

“You shouldn’t assume things, you know.”

“What?” He seemed to be thinking. “I took that back. You aren’t the type to take drug aren’t you?”

“Of course not, you !” She slapped his knee, simply shifted away when he let his shoulder bobbing to contain laughter. The bright orb was ready to set again, just like yesterday and the day after yesterday and tomorrow would be the same, just to wait for.

“I don’t have time to see you laughing.” She sneered.

“You just curse. I thought you’d always be so polite.” He grimaced.

“I’m going.” She really didn’t have time to play around.

“Go ahead,” chirped him, lazily. “I’m about to report about my findings of your cousin.”

She’d be ashamed by then, and if it wasn’t for the named Minho, she wouldn’t let herself walking back to that chap who stole her breath away with his irresistible laughing and wide fervent grin. Plus, it didn’t seem like she would know the way back to Hongdae Street.

She sat herself by his side, by the space he had just patted, where he kept himself staring down to her eyes. He didn’t have the heart to spiel so straightforward to her face like that, just as he turned and his feature rumpled in adjusting with what came next. The vein in his eyes was cricked, and he couldn’t obliterate the feeling or constricted the fact for the better to be heard in her ears, or so, to make it acceptable.

“He didn’t exist.” He was hoping for her not to accuse him to be kidding, and airily resumed. “Can I know where’ d you come from?”

“Mokpo.”

“No, not that. I mean, how’d you get here?” He started to find the stranger out of her.

“I went to Minho’s house, the one that I’m currently living, and then,” she faltered a bit. “When I woke up that morning, he was gone, and I just knew that I couldn’t reach my family without him.”

“Can’t you tried searching for them by yourself?”

“I’ve tried.”

“And?”

“They’re basically gone.” Everything she had the day before was gone in a mere second she trudged up from the sleep – except herself. In contrary, she gained things

“Or is it you who is gone,” something was lending upon her, something that she had never ever give a damn thought about. “and get lost?” She didn’t comprehend what he was talking about.

She heavily stretched her lips into a horizontal line. It was always hard to learn from fact, or even accepting it. The shards from his speak was plodding a gash to the unhealed fracture in her heart. She was instantly regretting herself to hear that from his mouth, as if she was reminded again and again that, ‘you have nothing in this world’.

“Chanyeol, I shouldn’t run away from home.”  Chanyeol inflexibly raised an eyebrow, urging her to gush further because he knew, sooner or later, she would spill all of these. “I shouldn’t hate my family, although how annoying they were, or how hard we live, not that I mind to be poor, but I shouldn’t take them as something, like some’thing’, cause they are my family. They still are my family, and I won’t keep the past tense although I would never see them again. I have really lost them huh? My family, and cousin.”

“Me too.” At last, he thought.

“Hm?” She faced the guy, bewildered.

“The address that you’ve given me was where my family lived.” He knew what she was about to ask. “No, Mr Seol isn’t my father. My father had sacrificed himself in a war, of fighting his disease, and my Mum was kinda getting married again, with that man.” His weary eyes blinked as the birds flew off in front of them. “Since then, I never knew where she lived because I was sent to train in a military school. I hate the life there. And I used to hate living.”

She listened intently, so well that he even hated to break the mood.

“So, what did I do about it? I’ve tried to cut myself.” His chuckle rippled in his chest, vacant and dread. “But it never worked. I guess, God wanna show me something.” He let the tears fell as the memories receded. “You shouldn’t harm yourself, you know. We shouldn’t die that way. That’s cruel to do that your body. How crazy life throws at you, just face it. Live a human being.”

“I just wanna go home.” The faraway look was thrown beyond lives at the horizon, laden with stories, fear and dusk, and her being here. Home, as it even existed anymore, or her life was just totally envied her and it literally consumed everything up.

“And I just want to hug my Mum.” His eyes were soggy, but he couldn’t weep, and slowly rest his head on her lean shoulder.  Contemplatively, she patted a reassuring hand on his back, trying to comfort him but she didn’t know how, as she was a socially bad-type of person and even with the task of comforting, she couldn’t pass that.

Her body suddenly laid flat on the top of the car, as he planted his palms flat on her sides. “I’ve an affinity for someone with the depressed aura.” She was too stunted to react when he subtly pressed his lips on her chin. He pulled away, matching his eyes with her abashed one and he ludicrously escaped a coy smile, but the boyish satisfaction was vivid by the way he stared.

“Can I hug you?”