A sharp rasping on his bedroom window jolts Jongin awake. The digital clock on his nightstand glows 2:43 and whoever disturbed him at such an unholy hour deserves a nice high five in the face.

He stands, throwing pillows and blankets to the side as he feels for his pants in the dark. He struggles to put them on while he pads to the window, the incessant scratching irritating his eyeballs out of their sockets.

“Hurry up, sleepyhead.”

Jongin slides the glass windows open to reveal Nara, grinning from ear to ear as if standing outside a neighbor’s garden at two in the morning with a jar of Nutella in tow was the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s cold, hurry.”

She pushes past a bewildered Jongin, climbing over the window sill without hesitation. Nothing registers to Jongin as he slides the window back to a close to ward off the cold that has sent a million goose bumps up his arms.

Only when the smell of sweet, divine choco-hazelnut goodness wafts to his nose does his senses return to him and he promptly plops himself on the bed beside Nara. Nothing kick starts Jongin like Nutella, and he suspects Nara must have done something terrible to bribe him with that. Or maybe she wants help in one of her genius escapades. He sighs as he reaches over to yank the jar out of her tiny grasp.

“What do you want? Spill,” he mumbles over a mouthful of chocolate.

“You sound like I only come over when I need something.” Nara replies, mock hurt lacing her tone.

“Mm-hmm.”

She sighs dramatically and sinks in his bed.

“You’re right, actually. But this time is an exception.”

Jongin pauses from pigging out of the jar to look over his best friend. She has on a cheeky smile or a blissful one, not that there is much difference if he were to be honest.  All her smiles are the same, because each and every one of her smiles is genuine. After years of looking and observing, secretly and not-so-secretly, Jongin can attest to that fact.

“How so?” he prods when she gives no sign that she’ll continue, just stares at him with that smile that makes Jongin hyper aware that they are too close, and that she still looks radiant despite the lack of luminosity. There’s a prickling sensation in his palms, and he knows that the jar of chocolate had nothing to do with it.

“Chanyeol asked me to move in with him. We’re getting an apartment near uni together.”

What?

Jongin strains to process whether he heard her right. His grip on the jar tightens.

“I just had to come over to tell you the news. I’m so excited Jongin, I can’t wait till graduation.”

She squeals into a nearby pillow to muffle out the sounds as to not wake Jongin’s sleeping parents. As much as they adore her like their own daughter, she knows she’d face hell’s wrath if they found her inside Jongin’s room at the crack of dawn.

Waking up his parents be damned, because Jongin’s voice raises an octave higher when he asks, “But I thought you said Chanyeol was applying for KNU Arts?”

“I did.” She blinks innocently, hugging his pillows to her chest. This baffles Jongin even more.

“And?”

“I sent my application there too. Just yesterday, actually.”

Jongin is at loss for words. He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to let her words sink in and maybe trying to wake up, in case this was one awful dream he can walk away from. Maybe it’s just a nightmare, and he’ll wake up to the smell of fresh pancakes that he’ll barely have enough time to savor anyway because he’d be horrifyingly late to school.

But it isn’t, and Nara is solidly on his bed, hanging onto the silent atmosphere for his response.

“I-I thought we’re applying for Seoul University together?” he breathes, suddenly weary as reality sinks heavily upon his shoulders, “I even sealed the envelopes last night and I thought we’d meet later in the morning and send them together. I don’t get it, Nara. What is- why?”

There is a pregnant pause; tension wraps the morning air so tightly it suffocates Jongin. And although he loves Nara so dearly, he’s wishing that he’s feeling the same stifling agitation as he is.

“I think I’m in love with him, Jongin.”

It’s barely a whisper, barely a breath of air that Jongin thinks she’s talking more to herself than to him. He catches it nonetheless, despite the pathetic sound of his heart shattering into pieces loud in his chest, the almost inaudible confession like sirens wailing painfully in his ears.

“But they don’t even have Finance over at KNU, Nara. Did that even cross your mind?” he asks, breaking the awkward stillness.

“I’m going to major in music, Jongin. I love singing more than I can ever love Finance, you know that.”

“But do your parents know that?” Jongin challenges, his feeling of betrayal and anger pushing him towards the brink of his limited patience. He’s always been tolerant of Nara and her constant antics. He never bats an eyelid when she tells him of her new pranks and plans despite them always bringing the definition of ridiculous to a whole new level.

Nara bites her lower lip, uneasiness written all over her features.

“Not yet. I can’t tell them, not until we both get past auditions and get accepted.”

“And if you don’t? What’re you-“

“I don’t know Jongin, I don’t know.”

She spats, voice dangerously treading over the volume limit, and she cards her fingers along her hair, a telltale sign that she’s distressed. Jongin knows how much she hated messing her hair, but it’s an unconscious habit she has that only Jongin knows and clearly now, she’s frustrated.

“I actually thought that Chanyeol had no plans for us Jongin, seeing that he never said anything about us going to different universities and I just can’t Jongin,” she says, pushing her palms up to her face in an attempt to stifle her overwhelming emotions,” I just can’t imagine being that far away from him. I can’t handle a long distance relationship and now that he’s offered me this much I know I have to grab that one chance.”

Again they are both silent, Jongin half-heartedly listening to her ragged breath as he tries to drown out her words, her presence. He wishes to drag on the silence in an attempt to pretend that none of this is happening; none of what just transpired between them is true.

“Are you going to tell mom and dad about this?” she asks, shattering the veil of ice that Jongin slowly builds between them. Nara, he thinks, is always a weakness in his defense, a chink in his armor.

Jongin meets her eyes and realizes that the words weren’t formulated as a question. In her orbs sit a silent plea. He knows that she trusts him too much, too much for her own good and too much for Jongin’s sanity.

He wishes he can be selfish, but the sad thing about his relationship with Nara is that he’s ready to give up everything for her. Even if he’d meet a conclusion with nothing but patches of holes he’d have to fill on his own in the end.

“No.”

Nara bounds over to him and envelopes him in a warm hug that he can only return with an awkward pat. There’s too much Nara, Nara, Nara all over him. She smells sweet and she feels so warm and so tiny and he wishes that she’s hugging him for different reasons but she isn’t. She’s grateful because her best friend, who is secretly pining for her, is helping her into some kind of modern eloping.

 It’s too twisted chick flick, but then what else can Jongin do but ride along this badly chosen genre?

“What if I say I’ll miss you?” he asks, as his hands find their way to tangle through her locks.

She nuzzles into the crook of his neck and lets out a muffled chuckle.

“We can always Skype. And maybe meet on weekends but maybe you’ll be too campus hottie for me then.”

Jongin chuckles dryly at her sentiment. There’s still this crushing feeling of separation weighing him down and he can only hug her tighter, though he knows that it won’t stop her from going away anyway.

“And if I ask you not to go?”

He shouldn’t have asked, because Nara always had answers. Sometimes she’s always a little too sure.

And her finality, well sometimes, hurts.

“I love Chanyeol, Jongin. That’s all I know.”