The house was utterly silent in the early morning atmosphere. Lia stood leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes fixated on a book in her hands while she waited patiently for her coffee to get done. She heard a ding and looked up, expecting her pot to be done, but it was still brewing. Her gaze casted to the door when she heard another ring, and she realizes someone was pressing on the doorbell.

"Coming!" she called, and set down the book, walking leisurely to the door. She pried it open, and her she scrunched her eyebrows as she realized Jongin was the one standing at her door. "What are you doing here?"

He flashed a toothy grin, holding up his hand and showing her the large grocery bag he held. "Breakfast?"

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside and allowing him entry. "Don't you eat at the dorm?" she asked as she shut the door softly.

"Yeah, but D.O isn't in a good mood and Chanyeol's still asleep," he explained, walking comfortably into the house and straight into the kitchen.

"So why'd you think I'd cook for you?"

"Because," he said, smiling coyly at her, "I'm me."

"Coy as ever," she mumbled, and he laughed loudly.

"I'm just kidding. But will you? Please?" he begged, cupping his face cutely.

With a loud sigh, her eyes flicked over the contents of the bag. "I suppose, since you've already bought everything."

He gave a short shout of victory, punching the air enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Stop," she commanded, and he froze. "I have a headache, so if you want me to cook, you better stay quiet."

He nodded enthusiastically, zipping his lips and giving her a thumbs up. She laughed softly, rolling up her sleeves and turning to the counter. He could be so childish at times, she thought. It was adorable. Her hands ruffled through the plastic bag, pulling out the contents and placing them on the countertop. Scanning the items quickly, she figured out what she'd make and began pulling out everything she needed.

Jongin sat himself on one of the chairs at the table, and Lia could feel his eyes as she worked. After a few minutes, she glanced around at him, catching him with his head propped up on his arm as he watched her carefully. "What?" she spoke, and he shook his head sluggishly.

"Just thinking," he murmured, still staring at her.

She turned back around, chopping the vegetables as she put a pot of water on to boil. "About what?"

"About the other day," he said quietly. "When we were all over."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," she apologized, putting the vegetables into the pot and wiping her hands on a towel. "It was my fault." He let out a long breath and she looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. "What is it now?"

"Why don't you talk to me anymore? You used to tell me everything!"

She hesitated, her gaze faltering. "B-because I was going through a lot back then," she reasoned. "And I was naïve."

"Naïve?" he echoed. "You can tell me anything, Lia; just like seven years ago."

It was her turn to sigh, and she leaned back against the counter, bracing her hands on the cool edge. "It's not that I don't want to tell you," she lied, trying her best to pull a straight face. "I just don't have anything to tell you."

The expression on his face obviously said he didn't believe her, but just he was about to say something her phone rang from within the other room. "Can you get that?" she asked, and he jumped up, trotting into the other room and disappearing behind the wall. She let out a small gasp, relaxing her muscles. At least now she had time to think of an excuse. How could she tell him, of all people, why she was like that?

"It's Miss Park!" he shouted.

"You can answer it," she said, looking back to the stove. She could hear the muffled voice of Jongin talking on the phone, but couldn't understand the words well.

He came back into the room, holding out the phone. "She says she needs to talk to you," he told her. "Something about the station?"

Lia shrugged, taking the phone from him and holding it up to her ear. "Hello?" she called.

"Lia!" Park exclaimed on the other end, a hint of worry on the edge of her voice. "Are you busy right now?"

"I'm making breakfast," she answered. Her eyes cast up to Jongin, who stared at her with a confused expression. She shook her head, leaning back against the counter and listening intently.

"Well, do you think you could come to the station?" she asked.

"Why? I thought you didn't work at the station anymore."

"I don't; they've called me in to reopen a cold case," she explained.

Lia folded her shoulders. "What case?" she pressed hesitantly, knowing immediately what it was.

Park sighed on the other end. "They'd . . . they'd like to reopen your mother's murder."

She pursed her lips. "Give me a second," she blurted, moving the phone away from her face and covering the speaker. Her wide eyes bored into the floor, and she felt herself start to rock. Was this a good thing? Would she be able to relive it all?

"Lia?" Jongin whispered, and his sudden voice made Lia jump.

She glanced up at him quickly, laughing nervously. "I-it's nothing, Jongin," she said unconvincingly. "Don't worry about it."

He frowned, snatching the phone from Lia's hand at her protest. "See? This is what I'm talking about," he ridiculed before putting the phone to his ear. "Miss Park? Yes, this is Jongin. Can you tell me what's going on?" He stopped talking, occasionally nodding his head. His eyes narrowed suddenly, followed by a shocked expression. "And that's why they need her?" His eyes focused on Lia, who glared at him with frustration. "Do you have to have her? Okay, I see. Do you think I'll be able to come with her?"

Lia jumped for the phone, trying her hardest to reach it. However, being only 5"2', Jongin easily lifted the phone out of reach. "Stop," he hissed in a hushed voice. "I'm trying to help. I don't want you going there on your own."

"But you can't!" she protested. "Everyone will see you! You'll get in trouble!"

He rolled his eyes, putting the phone back against his head whilst combating her grabby fingers single-handedly. "I'm sorry, I'm back," he said. "Do you think that you could bring them here? I really don't want her going there alone, and I can't go to a police station." He paused, listening with a look of concentration. "If that's at all possible, I'd really appreciate it," he stated, continuing to nod. "Yes, okay. Thank you so much, Miss Park. Here's Lia," he finished, handing Lia the phone and sniggering at her angry expression.

"Yes, hello," Lia growled through clenched teeth. "What did you just agree to with Jongin?"

"They'll be coming to your house instead," she said. "Which, in all honesty, I think is a better alternative. I think Jongin is right about you being better with him than alone."

"I think I can take care of myself," she seethed.

"I'm sure you can," Park teased. "They'll be there in about ten minutes. I've told them that Jongin is there, so they won't be shocked."

Lia rolled her eyes, hanging up abruptly. Her head flicked up at Jongin, who flashed a small smile. "See what happens when I'm not here? You would've had to go through all that alone!"

She smacked him hard in the arm, and he cradled in with a whine. "Why do you always hit me?"

"Because you're annoying," she spat, stomping out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"To get ready!" she shouted, slamming her bedroom door behind her. She slumped against the closed door, squeezing her eyes shut tight. In all honesty, she was quite happy that he was going to be there during all this; her worry was that she might have another flashback. If she did, she worried that she couldn't compose herself this time. No one could know about what happened in America;

Especially not Jongin.

 

---

 

Ten minutes later, there was a slight knock at the door. Lia ran to the door, prying it open and poking her head through the door. Her eyes caught two men, one fairly short, while the other fairly tall. They both had a soft look on their face; less menacing than she'd imagines them to be. "I'm assuming you're from the station?"

The short one nodded, and she let the door drift open, allowing them entry. She closed the door beside them, gesturing to the living room. "Go ahead, take a seat. Sorry that there's boxes everywhere."

"It's no problem," the shorter one reassured in a surprisingly deep voice.

Jongin, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, jumped up to greet them. "Hello," he mumbled, bowing clumsily as he nearly slipped on the slick wooden floors. "You must be Miss Park's friends."

"Yes, she sent us here. She said she could trust us, it being such a personal case and all." Jongin nodded as the man spoke, leading them into the living room and setting across on the end of the couch closest to the chair. The two detectives sat on the other end of the couch, leaving the chair for Lia to sit in.

Lia came in after a few minutes, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm sorry. I would offer tea, but I've just moved in, so I haven't bought any yet."

"Really, there's no need to be sorry," the taller one said. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves; I'm Detective Shin, and this is Detective Gom," he finished, pointing to the short man. Detective Gom man nodded, acknowledging himself silently.

"Well, I'm Lia," she said. "And I'm going to assume you've heard of him."

"Yes, of course," Detective Shin agreed. "My daughters are big fans," he said, looking at Jongin.

"Ah, that's sweet," Jongin mumbled, and Lia sniggered at his awkwardness. He gave her a threatening frown, and she waved him away dismissively.

"Um, should we get started?" Detective Gom broke in, and she nodded.

"Yes, go ahead."

"Well," he began, "As you know, the department is looking to reopen the case of your mother's death."

"Why?" Lia asked. "Why now, of all times?"

"You see-" Detective Shin started, but was cut off by Detective Gom.

"Your father's been spotted recently."

Lia froze, her hand tightening on the arm of the chair. Her father, the man she'd thought to be long dead, was back. As soon as she'd gotten away from the terror of her family, a nightmare from her past had come back to haunt her.

She could feel Jongin's worried gaze on her as she choked, "When?"

"A few days ago," Detective Gom explained. "There'd been no sign of him since your mother's murder. However, he was spotted at a gas station in Gangdong-gu."

It was quiet for a few moments, until Jongin finally spoke up. "So what do you need Lia for?"-

"We'd like to hear the story again, if you don't mind."

"Why?" Jongin pressed. "She told them what happened seven years ago! Why make her tell it again?"

"Because," Detective Gom started, "She might have remembered something important after so long."

Jongin let out a frustrated sigh, and Lia patted his arm gently. "It's okay, I don't mind."

He gave her an unsure look, but nodded understandingly.

"Where do you want me to start?" she asked, her lips.

"The beginning."

She cleared , leaning back in the chair and staring blankly across the room. "I was out riding my bike," she started. "Whenever my dad would get home from work, he'd always be in a bad mood. I tried to avoid him, because when he was angry he got . . . physical," she spat, grimacing. "So I usually got home, put my school stuff away, and left for most of the night until my dad fell asleep. But that night I had a . . . a bad feeling. I went home earlier than I usually do; I felt like something happened . . ." she trailed off, her eyes drifting up to Jongin. She'd thought she'd be alright talking about it, but it was hard to relive.

"I got home, put my bike away, and went inside," she said. "It was really quiet, which was odd, because usually you would at least hear my dad snoring in his bedroom. But I went in, and when I went into my mother's room . . ." her voice broke off as closed up. She felt her eyes begin to mist, and she coughed. "When I went into my mother's room . . . she was . . . there was blood . . ."

"That's enough," Jongin cut off, grabbing her hand and dragging her up from the chair and onto the couch beside him. He pulled her into a warm hug, petting the back of her head gently. "I think they've heard enough," he whispered.

All she could see was Jongin's shoulder as silent tears slipped down her face. She wasn't watching, but she heard as the two detectives rose from their seats and crossed the living room and to the entrance. The door slipped open quietly, and as soon as she heard it close she sat up quickly. Her hands raced to her face, wiping quickly at her puffy face. "I'm sorry," she choked, tight. "I'm sorry . . ."

Before she knew what was going on, Jongin had his hands on her cheeks, holding her head steadily. "Lia," he breathed. Lia felt a shiver run down her back as she looked into his deep brown eyes, which stared intensely at her. "Do not be sorry. You did nothing." He paused, his thumb tracing her tear-stained cheek gently. "You couldn't have done anything if you'd been there," he told her, a soft expression crossing his face. "So please stop telling yourself it was your fault."

At once, all the emotions rushed back at Lia; all the times she'd been told it was her fault, all the times she'd contemplated ending it all just so she could be with her mother, all the time's she had been unable to even think of her mother without a soul-wrenching guilt consuming her. Every single thing she'd blamed herself for, tortured herself over, and here Jongin was, reassuring her that there was nothing she could've done.

Slowly, he tucked her into his shoulder, letting her lay against him. Tears streamed down her face, painting her cheeks a blotchy red. Her hands tightened their grip on Jongin's shirt, balling the cloth in her fists. For once, in so long, she sobbed; for all the times she'd been alone; for all the times she'd blamed herself; for all the times there was no one to hold her and tell her it was alright. Right now, at this moment, Jongin somehow made up for it all.

And that scared her.