# C for Cafuné:

It used to be a habit for other members to gather in Jungshin’s room whenever they had time. Back then when they were still staying under a same roof, Jonghyun was the most to come over, apparently because he was quite an introvert who liked to seek comfort among close friends. Usually it would be them sitting next to each other on Jungshin’s bed, fingers on their phones’ keyboards chatting or playing games. Then moments later Jungshin would feel the pressure as the guitarist started to lean against his shoulder, his burnished, chestnut hair inches from his nose. After a few minutes agonizing, Jungshin would find Jonghyun go limp as he started to breathe so nonchalantly, his resting eyelashes formed perfect curves. Jungshin would smile and cradle him closer to his chest, fingers sliding through skein of hair that puffed around his forehead like a halo. He could smell his Jonghyun-like smell, which was not really distinguishable whether it was shampoo or cologne. Jungshin could only recall that the scent was a concoction between sandalwood and a subtle hint of patchouli, which was too inscrutable to describe and too pleasant to be praised with words. That feeling is still vividly etched in Jungshin’s memory until now, the feeling of Jonghyun’s hair being velvety soft like suede and how his heart throbbed when he nuzzled into it.

Yet before Jungshin realizes, just like his hair, Jonghyun has already slipped through his fingers.