Ace pinches the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, wondering how best to continue his explanation.

Eventually he says, "Sarah told me she met some guy – he was at least four years older than her - at some voluntary thing she'd been signed up to attend by our father. She was only 16 at the time, and still just a kid. My God, if I'd have known about what he'd done to her then, he wouldn't still be…"

"Ok," Naomi soothes, "It's ok. You didn't know." And with a sinking feeling, having already pieced together what his next few words will be, she listens to him continue.

"She was vulnerable – our father was never much of the caring, parental figure. Our mother was more so, I suppose, but none could ever win Parent of the Year Award. Both are just too bloody selfish." He sighs, and runs an agitated hand though his dark, shaggy hair. "But this guy cared for her, she said, and made her feel loved."

He takes a deep lungful of air, expelling it in a long, shuddering breath. "He didn't care, however, when she told him she was pregnant. He just left her."

Ace's hands clench into tight fists, his knuckles turning white. And noticing the sudden tension, Naomi wraps her small hands around his fists, trying to unclench them, so that she can intertwine their hands together.

"She told our parents a couple of months later. She was scared, and didn't know what to do. She should have told me, because I would have helped her, and none of this would have happened. None of it. But she didn't, and she told them. She told him.

"As soon as our father heard, he just lost it and began screaming at her, telling her that she was a disgrace and a worthless that should be cast out on to the streets. He had a reputation to withhold, and couldn't have her tainting it in such a way. Especially when she refused to abort the kid. But she just couldn't do it.

"And so he kicked her out." Ace shakes his head in stupefied disbelief. "And our mother didn't even try to stop him. I can't believe she allowed him to do such a thing, but she did. Maybe it was because she was scared of him, or because she also wanted to preserve their reputation. But she let him do it, and even supported the lies he concocted to fob me off with. And me, being the gullible fool I was, brought it.

"They told me she'd gone to some private boarding school abroad. And then, when I returned home duringthe summer, expecting to see Sarah at home, also, they tell me she's staying at some friends villa in Spain."

Ace shakes his head, causing the glints of moisture in his eyes to slip down his cheeks.

"I was so stupid," he cries, "because I should have known something was wrong when she never returned any of my phone messages or letters. I latched on to the whole rouse about 6 months later, having demanded to speak to her. I thought she was mad at me for a time, and was just refusing to talk to me, giving me a taste of my own medicine since I'd been neglecting her so much. It's then they told me she ran away; just left a note and disappeared.

"I didn't believe them to begin with, because surely she would have told me, right? We'd been close. But I'd also let her down recently, and began to think that perhaps, they might be right.

"I was assured they'd hired the best private investigators to search for her, and she would surely be delivered home, and soon. Or she would grow tired of this rebellious stage and come home herself.

"She never did, however, and it was only until just over a month ago that I discovered the truth."

Ace wipes away the traitorous tears with his left hand, his right arm having slipped around Naomi's waist sometime during his explanation. Her head is on his shoulder as she waits for him to continue.

"Our mother, however, does appear to have some heart," he says. "She arranged for her to stay at a long distant Aunt's house, without my father's knowing, of course. And Sarah's been there for the last five years, believing that I didn't want to talk to her, and that I was ashamed of her. She would try ringing home, only to be told I either wasn't available, or I simply refused to speak with her. I'd changed accommodation at college, as well, during that time, under the advice of my mother. I never really thought anything of it at the time, because the new dorm I'd been assigned was closer to my classes, so I just thought it was a move brought about by convenience. I never thought they could be so conniving or deceitful or heartless..."

He looks at Naomi then, looking disgusted, but not at her, but because of his 'loving' parents. "What kind of people could disown their daughter like that?"

"I don't know," Naomi murmurs, her mood severely dampened by the story. It does, however, set off a feeling of mild gratification, forcing her to appreciate what she has – or had, because at least her father had been a great man, and her mother caring and kind. And at least she still had her brother, with whom she loved and adored, and had never been more than a couple of days apart from. Her life looked significantly better in that light, when in comparison to the hell Sarah had been subjected to. She must have been so scared, Naomi muses.

"Dara?"

I poked my head from around the corner in the lounge, only to find my mom buttoning up her winter coat, her medical bag placed just beside her feet.

"Animal emergency?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "complication with a calf delivery. I'm not sure what time I'll be back though, honey, so just make sure you lock the doors and…"

I held up my hand, stilling her in mid-flow. "I know the drill: don't answer the door to strangers, don't eat all the chocolate chip cookies…"

She nodded, smiling, and casted a glance at the wall clock. "It's half nine now, so just make sure Durami's in bed by ten, okay?"

"Will do," I said. "Hope everything's ok with the calf."

"Me too," she mumbled, and shut the door soundly behind her.

There's creaking on the stairs, pulling my gaze upwards. Durami's clad in her pyjamas, a glass of water in hand. "I'm going to bed," she told me. "I'm so tired."

I smiled wryly at her. "That's got nothing to do with your two hour conversation with Seungri the other night, does it?"

She blushed crimson and turned away from me, quickly waltzing to her room, mumbling, "Shut up, Dara."

Chuckling to myself, I surveyed the lounge, wondering what I should do with my time now.

My eyes latched on to the Christmas tree propped up on the table in the corner. I'd decorated it only the other day with Durami and mom, and remember all the criticism I'd had to endure from them in regards to my obvious lack of flair for decorating. In the end I'd just been left in charge of placing the star on the tree, which had been just fine with me, because that was the most important part, right?

I noticed the few presents wrapped underneath, and know what I'll do tonight. I still haven't wrapped Durami's gifts, or Mom's, for that matter.

But as with tree decorations, I also proved to be challenged in regards to the art of wrapping presents. It's just all too fiddly: trying to get the tape off the role, and then cutting the Christmas paper in straight lines. What's wrong with a simple plastic bag?

And then I ran out of sellotape. Damn.

Grunting, sighing, and throwing the empty role down in frustration, I scribbled a quick note for Durami if she were to ever realize I'm out, and grabbed my keys and head out the door.

Determined, I promised myself I'll finish them tonight, even if I have to go through two roles of tape.

It was surprisingly quiet on the roads, for which I'm thankful, as I've never been a fan of driving at night, especially when the roads have recently been glazed over with a thin layer of ice.

I drove carefully, the roads lit by the amber glow of streetlamps protruding from either side. The anemic moon hangs center stage within the sky's black canvas, surrounded by white stars that glint like pearls in incandescent light.

I parked easily, swiftly, in one of Wal-Mart's many parking spaces. And stepped out of the warm confines of my car, into the night's bitter chill.

"Get out," a rough, burly voice yelled.

My eyes latched on to the two dark figures across the street. A large man towered easily above the less boisterous, and obviously drunk, figure splayed out on the floor. He pointed an accusing finger at the drunkard, scolding, "You've had enough, son. Just walk away and go home. Don't make me bar you."

My eyes flitted to the large, expansive sign adoring the top of the building: The Bucket of Blood.

Pleasant.

The larger, heftier man slumped inside, leaving the lone figure on the floor. I'm about to walk away, having no pity for drunks who get themselves in such states, when I heard his voice.

The only words going through my mind are no no no. Because he wouldn't, would he?

"Jiyong?" I called, hurriedly crossing the street.

The pub's lights from inside dimly shine on him, allowing me to see the bedraggled mess that is, in fact, Jiyong.

"You stupid, drunken bastard," I swore. "What the hell are you doing?"

He squinted up at me, struggling to focus, and struggling to talk.

"Dara?" he slurred.

"Yeah," I snapped. "It's me."

I tried pulling him up, slinging his arm over my shoulder so that I can just get him off the ground. But he pushed me away, and went to cover his face with his hands. "Just leave me alone," he grumbled. And sluggishly, he waved his arms in the air in a go away gesture.

"Listen," I told him, my voice softening, "I can't leave you out here. It's winter and it's cold. You'll catch hypothermia or something, and then who'll take care of the kids, huh?"

"Mom," he mumbled. "Better…she's better."

I frowned, and crouched down low beside him. "She's no longer drinking?"

He shook his head, his eyes closed. Dirt smeared its way on to his face by the action, in which I wiped away with my hand. He tried batting it away, but missed.

"I'm getting you home," I told him.

"No," he drew out, shaking his head.

"Well," I began, "I can't stay out here all night. I'm not leaving you, y'know. So help me out, and let me get you in the car. Pretty girls like me shouldn't be out at this time of night," I said, trying to goad him into accepting, "there are bad people around."

"Beautiful," he murmured, "beautiful, Dara."

Heat crept its way into my cheeks.

"Okay," he said, attempting to push himself into an upright position. I helped him, winding my arm around his waist, heaving him into a standing position.

"Let's get you home," I said, walking him slowly to my car, my arm holding him upright.

He shook his head. "No… not home. Can't let them see me… like this. Can't."

"Okay," I said, trying to calm him, placating his worries. "You can stay at mine."

Jiyong rested against the side of the car as I opened the back door, and gently helped him slide inside. He kept mumbling, "Messed up…was stupid…sorry."

And then he slurred, "Forgive me?"

My hand stilled on top of my seatbelt. I turned around in my seat, only to find him slumped back, his eyes, for the first time that night, focused on mine.

"What?"

"You hate me," he declared.

I didn't respond for a moment, wondering how coherent he is, or as to whether his words are the result of the drunken stupor.

"I don't hate you," I told him quietly.

"Should do."

"I can't."

He then closed his eyes, his head resting against the window.

I turned back around and went to turn the keys in the engine. But Jiyong's next words stopped me, stilling my breath, and forcing my heartbeat to race.

"I love you, Dara."

"Our Aunt passed away six months ago," Ace continues, "leaving Sarah everything she owned. She treated her like a daughter, and welcomed Matthew when he came.

"It was then that she decided to try and get back in touch with her family. She sought me out first, having known I'd most likely be working for our father. And she was right, as always."

He smiles, remembering their long, emotionally charged meeting. "I couldn't believe it when I saw her, Naomi. I really thought, after all these years, that she was dead. But she wasn't, and with her was this small, shy boy."

Ace runs his hand through his hair again, causing it to stick up at every angle. "We parted late in the evening, having met in the morning, with her telling me everything that had happened back then. I visited my father that night, livid, and having never hated anyone so much as I did then. I wanted to hurt him, and I did." He smiles tightly. "I landed him a black eye."

Ace stands up from his hunched position on the ground, but ensures that Naomi's hands are still in his. He pulls her up slowly, and gently tugs on her hand to lead her back inside, into the pub, so that the dark night sky is at their back.

"I left the business, obviously," Ace continues, "and of course, though I would have refused the money anyway, have been written out of my father's will. I would have inherited everything from him before, but not now."

Naomi fixes him with a sympathetic look, but knows it's only wasted, because Ace looks anything but sorry. He looks relieved.

"I never wanted to run a business," he says, "and I hate all those long, monotonous meetings. But I'd pursued that kind of career, because I'd always been pushed in that direction. I'd never known anything else."

They're both now standing in the hall, the kitchen to their right and the bar to their left. The rumblings of conversations are dim from where they are, barely audible. And yet even if the customers were rowdy, and making a colossal amount of noise, neither Naomi nor Ace would have noticed.

Ace smiles, telling her softly, "Things changed when I met you."

2 chapters.

Gforce and Nuntches annyeong ^^