Trigger Warning: be advised there is a short slight graphic scene in the story.

Sorry this took forever to update, I've just been so busy with work + assignments + moving. Anyways, I chose to add Bobby at the last minute because why the freaking hell not?

Also, I haven't had the time to proofread it yet, so apologies for any errors. I'll eventually find the time to edit it - most likely before the contest ends. Or when I find the time.

Originally, this was supposed to have 5 chapters, but I at updating regulary (and depriving pretty unicorns like you would be a sin).

Let me know what you think in the comment box below, yeah?

LUV ME SENPAI HIHI

He stared at the pack of cigarettes carelessly tucked in his backpack, trying to estimate how many more he had to smoke before his lungs would finally give up on him. Letting out a stifled laugh, he shrugged the thought away and made a swift grab for it instead. Hanbin decided that it didn’t matter anyway, he would do it until his lungs could handle no more.

Placing the cancer inducing stick between his lips, he took out the matte black lighter from his pocket and lit it. He inhaled the smoke, allowing it to linger in his lungs longer than one was supposed to let it, and only exhaled after the itch was too much to bear. It was an endless game of what if between him, his life and his lungs. What if this was my last puff? What if today was my last time to breathe? What if my lungs gave out today? As the smoke escaped his lips and disappeared into the thin air, Hanbin then wondered what that would feel like: disappearing.

“I thought I’d find you here,” A familiar voice spoke from behind him.

Hanbin had gotten use to the deep, slightly monotonous voice that he didn’t have to turn around and see who it was. He focused on his breathing – cause God knew how long until he wouldn’t be able to anymore – and watched the sky as it moved above him. It was a mystery as to why she kept coming to him, talking to him as if they were close friends. She never spoke to him in class, so why did she outside of it?

“You can try to pretend I don’t exist all you want,” she said, her voice closer than earlier. “It’s not that I mind. Everyone pretends I don’t exist anyway.”

She was standing beside him now. From the corner of his eye, he could see her slouched shoulders, her long blonde hair tied in its usual messy bun and an oversized grey hoodie over her. Hanbin continued to smoke his cigarette, trying his best not to acknowledger her. There was a fine line between ignoring and trying not to involve himself with people after all.

“How many packs have you smoked today, Hanbin?”

He took one last puff and threw the cigarette on the ground, stepping on it to make sure it was out. Then, he turned to her. Hanbin regretted looking her in the eyes, they were just as sad as his were. Unknowingly, he glanced at her wrist, recklessly covered by the sleeve of her hoodie. Almost, he almost said something to her, almost responded to her question; instead, he picked up his bag and slid it over his shoulder.

She flashed him a small, sad smile. “Okay. I’ll see you again next time, then.”

With that, he walked away. Down the stairs and out the building. Not even turning around to see if she had left after him.

. . .

Hayi sighed, slowly turning the small rectangular shaped razor between her fingers. It was scraping against her bare skin, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed the pain it was inflicting on her, an almost pleasurable pain. With a forced smile, she continued to climb up the flight of stairs, towards the rooftop. Where she was sure he would be.

She could always recognize him from his back. It was barely obvious that Hanbin was the type to smoke regularly, seeing how he was fit and muscular altogether. Never judge a book by its cover, she thought as she made her way towards him. “You always get here first,” she said aloud.

She wasn’t at all surprised that he kept silent and never even bothered to acknowledge her presence. Hanbin was always quiet around her, and she thought perhaps that was the reason she bothered to come up the rooftop and have their usual one-sided conversations. When she was finally standing beside him, she first caught glimpse of the cigarette dangling between his cherry coloured lips. Smiling, she dropped her backpack beside his and tucked the razor inside the pocket of her jeans.

“You need to stop following me around,” he grumbled, taking the stick between his fingers.

Surprised that Hanbin was speaking, she decided to hide the shock in her face by gazing at the cars below. His voice was not as deep as hers was, mellow and soothing in its own way, instead. Almost as if the wind carried it and blew into her ears; almost as if a lullaby. “I’m not,” she said, “We just happen to like the same place.”

He scoffed loudly, followed by a puff from his cigarette. She listened on meticulously to the way he inhaled and exhaled the smoke. “Find a different place to like then,” he said to her.

“You’ve said more than 6 words to me today. Are you warming up to me?” she teased.

Silence.

Hanbin was ignoring her again, and she knew that it was because her words had affected him greatly. She couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Hayi wondered for a moment would he have said more had she not . Although, she never did mind him ignoring her. He wasn’t the first one to do so anyway.

“Why do you smoke so much?” she asked all of a sudden. Deep inside, she knew that she had crossed a line. That was obviously a question she shouldn’t have asked.

He didn’t respond, but she noticed. She noticed his shoulders tense and his lips purse. Then, she watched as he threw his cigarette on the floor and killed the flame that lit it. Tapping on the pocket of her jeans, she felt the urge to take the razor between her fingers and press it against her skin. She was doing something wrong again, saying the wrong things. Hayi understood why he had reacted the way he did, in some level she knew why he was smoking so much. Yet, she asked. Stupid, Hayi.

Quickly, she made a grab for her bag. “Well, seems like I’ve reached my Hanbin quota for the day. I’ll be leaving then.” Then, she turned to leave.

“Why do you harm yourself so much?” he said softly, but enough to be heard by her.

Hayi stopped on her tracks, surprised with his question. He had noticed after all. She thought about his question for a while, deciding how she could make the words seem less unpleasant. With a heavy sigh, she said: “Dying is easy, living is hard.”

. . .

Dying is easy, living is hard.

Hanbin continued to smoke his cigarette, only listening to her heavy footsteps become more distant. Even when she was long gone her words stuck to him like glue, and although he pretended not to be bothered by them, it was nagging at him from the back of his head. Dying is easy, living is hard.

Was dying easy? If so, how come he hadn’t been successful in doing so? Rubbing on his temples, he threw down his half smoked cigarette and pressed the heel of his boots onto it. There were thousands of questions suddenly swimming in his head, and he knew none of the answers.

As he walked down the stairs, his timberland boots pit-a-patting against the metal stairs, he wondered just how was living harder.

. . .

When she walked into her apartment, the silence swallowed her almost immediately. Drawn curtains teased, projecting silhouetted trees in their frenzied dance. Despite the moonlight outside, it was dark, mostly. Those were her constant companions: darkness and silence. They greeted her; welcomed her; embraced her. Especially when no one did.

"I'm home," she whispered to no one in particular. Silence.

Shutting the door behind her and locking it, she made her way towards the living room. It was usually difficult to walk in the dark, but since she was used to it, Hayi didn't even bother switching the lights on anymore. Wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, echoing inside the one bedroom apartment. Effortlessly, she dropped her lightweight body onto the secondhand couch she had just barely managed to buy from a garage sale two blocks down. It was all she could afford with the money her mother had given. Honey, I really need you to move out when Minho moves into the house. I'm sure you can find somewhere to live. She had made it sound so easy, to move out and to start anew. But Hayi did, doing it for the sake of her mother's happiness.

In silence, Hayi thought about her mother, who possibly was having a much better time with her new family than she ever did with her own daughter. And her father too, wherever he was. They didn't care about her, and she didn't mind a slight bit anymore. Growing up, Hayi was always alone anyway. Besides, she knew that at the end of the day, all she had was herself. But maybe, hopefully, Hanbin, too.

. . .

There was always something about the sky that made him feel better. Perhaps the idea of how vast and blue it was or how the clouds seemed to always chase after him. Head in the clouds, he continued to stare out the window.

“You know, you have to stop doing that whenever you’re hanging at my place,” Jiyong complained, setting a coffee filled mug onto the table.

Snapping out of his daydream, he looked over the red-haired man and flashed him a goofy smile. “Do I do that often?” He knew he did, but was unaware that Jiyong noticed. The question of whether most people noticed certain things about him popped into his head. Do they notice my tar-stained lips? Do they notice the sadness in my eyes? Unknowingly, he entertained a question that itched at the back if his head: does she notice all these things about me?

Jiyong rolled his eyes, taking a slow sip on his coffee. “It worries me when you space out like that,” he informed the younger boy. Placing the cup on the table across him, he continued, “You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”

Hanbin chuckled. “Yes, hyung. I know,” he assured the older male. Taking the cup and sipping from it, he thought about how much he admired his older brother and his ability to express his emotions. Why couldn’t he be as expressive? Or was he already expressive without fully knowing it? While it was no secret that he was adopted since birth, Hanbin liked to think that being raised by the Kwon family had rubbed in on him.

“Stop smoking too much, mom’s starting to get worried, too.”

He smiled, not really an assurance, but a no promises kind of response. “Hyung,” he started, “is dying easy and living hard?”

The redhead looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. It was such an odd question for his younger brother to be asking, but he answered anyway. “I haven’t really given much thought to it, but if you had to ask me, I’d say no to both notion.”

Eagerly listening on, Hanbin propped himself on the chair just across Jiyong’s. “What do you mean?”

Jiyong chuckled, glancing at his cup of coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you about the time mom and dad brought you home,” he started reminiscing, “You were such a tiny baby but you cried just as much. I think you knew that somehow, someone had left you behind. I was already a tad older than you were but I still thought you were such a beautiful baby boy. I asked myself: who would want to give you away? There were times I was more thankful than angry, because in the end, we got you.

“My point is that ever since you came to the house, I learned to live in the moment more than I ever expected to. I watched you grow up, slowly and all at once, and I got to appreciate the things that didn’t seem big at that time. I learned to be kind to everyone, to appreciate them, just as you did when you were growing up.”

Hanbin scrunched up his nose and teasingly gave disgusted looks at his older brother, “You are such a fluff ball, hyung!”

The older threw a cushion pillow at his younger brother and laughed. “You just don’t know it yet, but you are, too. Sometimes, you just need time to understand certain things.”

During the evening, that same night, as he laid on his bed, he wondered about things – everything and nothing, and of Hayi.

. . .

Hayi sat on the ledge of the rooftop, swinging her dangling feet fifteen storey high. A bullet of sweat had begun forming on her forehead, despite her blonde locks tied in a messy bun. Even though the summer heat was excruciatingly painful, she was still keen on wearing her overused hoodie. The sky was cloudless, but just as blue and wonderful. The world wasn’t always pretty, but Hayi adored the sky and its mystery.

Digging her hand into the pocket of her shorts, she took out the razor that she often carried around. And with a sad smile, she wondered how something so small carried so much relief. Pulling back the sleeve of her hoodie, she gently pressed the metal onto her arm, slowly sinking it into her creamy skin. in appreciation, she tilted her head back and allowed her eyes to roll behind her head. Darkness engulfed her for a moment and she couldn’t help but think how alive she felt.

Again and again she did this, like her life fully depended on it. Over parallel scars, sometimes above or another, opening instead of healing, and other times creating anew. Crimson stained skin and copper scented humid air. That was the life she knew; that was how she felt alive.

. . .

“You weren’t here yesterday,” she said softly, breaking the hour and a half silence that they had earlier on been basking in. “It was kind of weird.”

Hanbin exhaled another cloud of smoke. With a shrug, he responded, “I was at my brother’s.”

She thought about teasing him about her Hanbin quota, but opted to nod, instead. “I understand.”

He glanced at her for a moment, then his eyes dropped to her arm, where evident wounds were just starting to heal. They looked swollen, skin exhausted from being abused. While he repeatedly told himself he didn’t care, his heart suggested otherwise, and suddenly he found himself asking: “Why do you hurt yourself like that?”

Surprised and confused altogether, Hayi turned to him with eyes wide open and lips gaped. When she caught sight of his eyes, he followed it and found that he had been referring to her scars. Out of reflex, she pulled on the sleeves of her hoodie and tugged on it even more as if it would erase the question he had asked. Hayi never usually minded people asking or noticing her scars, they were her own and it was her choice to do whatever she wished; yet, she felt ashamed that Hanbin was now addressing something she confidently flaunted at him. Her heart hammered against her chest and her lips began to feel dry. His eyes were boring into her face, slowly peeling her skin and seeing what her insides were like. From the corner of her eyes, she could see it – she could see him judging her.

“I’m not judging you,” Hanbin said, as if he had read her mind. “I’m asking so that I can understand.”

This caught Hayi off guard once again, but at the same time, somewhat relieved with his words. “Dying is easy, Hanbin,” she started, “but living is very, very hard.”

He raised his brow, confused with what she had just said. Before focusing all his attention at her, he killed his cigarette and tossed it aside. “You’re saying that again, and it just makes me not understand even more.”

Hayi took a deep breath, lacing her fingers together, and locked eyes with the male. Hers were met with the same sad eyes. At that, she couldn’t help but slightly smile. “I asked you before why you smoked, right?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. Hanbin was sure where this conversation was going, but it was only fair that he answered her questions, too. Especially if it would make him understand. “I never answered you,” he admitted.

She nodded. “You do it because you want to die, don’t you?”

Hanbin kept silent.

“I do this,” she said, all the while raising both the sleeves of her hoodie to reveal her scars, “because I want to feel alive.” A lump was beginning to form in and the tears were threatening to fall – an unfamiliar thing for Hayi. “Taking your life is easy, but trying to keep it? That’s not an easy task.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Unknowingly, he took her arm and placed it on his lap, and softly, he brushed his forefinger against the scars. They were fresh and blotchy. And sad. Hanbin hadn’t quite thought of it the way Hayi did. But he remembered something Jiyong had told him. Looking up, meeting Hayi’s sad eyes, he saw that tears were now streaming down her face. Sniffling and holding back her cries. Swiftly, he stood up and got off the ledge. Rummaging through his bag, he cursed that his pack of cigarettes were empty. Finally, before running out on the blonde, he flashed her a goofy smile.

. . .

There was a convenience store where his best friend, Bobby, was working part-time. When he entered the small store, sweaty and out of breath, Bobby ran to his friend worriedly. It was unusual for Hanbin to be visiting him at that specific time of the day, and to be looking like the way he did.

“What the hell happened to you?” the older asked.

Hanbin waved his hand frantically, chest heaving and throat so dry, he could die at that moment. Dying on the spot would’ve been an idea he welcomed before the day started, but now it seemed irrelevant and highly unwelcomed. “Hyung,” he managed to say.

Bobby handed the younger boy his bottle of water and watched as he downed it in one go. “Are you okay, now?”

Sighing contently, he nodded. With a quick slide of his palm, the bullets of sweat that oozed out of his forehead disappeared quicker than when they had appeared. “Hyung,” he began, “Let me buy one pack, please.”

The thing about Bobby was that he disapproved of Hanbin’s lifestyle. Though he never actually questioned the younger boy as to why he wasted both time and money on the cancer inducing stick. “No,” he quickly said, voice firm and deep.

“Please,” Hanbin begged, “I need it urgently. I’ve ran out.”

“Probably a sign to stop smoking,” he retorted. Moving back into his original position behind the counter. Aside from the faint rapping coming off the speakers, the store was, as usual, quiet. On weekends, he manned the store alone, and kept busy by listening to his music.

Hanbin sighed exasperatedly. “I won’t smoke it, I promise.”

Scoffing, Bobby leaned on the counter. “Sure you won’t. Are you buying cigarettes now and telling people they’re only metaphors?”

“I swear, I won’t,” he said, making an invisible cross above his heart. “Please,” he added. And somehow Bobby believed it.

. . .

Hayi remained seated on the ledge, unsure of what had happened earlier and what Hanbin’s smile had meant. A part of her assumed the worst: that he had ran away, judging her, and deciding to tell people what he knew of her scars and thoughts. But Hanbin came back shortly after, so out of breath, like death had swallowed him and spat him back out after.

“Oh my– Hanbin.” She quickly got down the ledge, her feet harshly landing against the concrete floor. Hayi barely noticed the pain she had inflicted on herself; after all, she had felt worst. “What happened?”

Hanbin took quick strides towards her. his lips, an attempt to moisten his extremely dry lips, he looked down at Hayi. He never really noticed how short she was or how beautiful she actually was up close. Despite the paleness of her skin or the dark circles underneath her eyes, Hayi was beautiful. “Give me your razor,” he said hoarsely. Extending his hand out, he locked eyes with the blonde and hoped that she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Reluctantly, she took the rectangular shaped metal from her pocket and handed it to Hanbin. Silence. She watched as he stared at the piece of metal on his palm, and then kept it in his pocket after doing so. “What are you–?”

“Take this,” he interjected, handing her the pack of cigarettes he had just bought from Bobby. “This is my last pack, and this is your last cut. Today is our first last.”

Now, it was Hayi’s turn to stare at the pack of Marlboro in front of her. Was Hanbin joking? Did he not understand the fact that she couldn’t quit something so easily? “Hanbin–”

“Hayi,” he whispered.

He had said her name so delicately, almost as if it was fragile and precious all at the same time. And at that, she broke down and cried, an even bigger sense of relief washing over her. Hanbin cared. Hanbin was with her. That’s what it sounded to her, and even though she didn’t know if that was true, she clung onto it – onto this moment – and cried.

Kneeling down, he took her into his arms. Allowing her to cry and feel that he was here for her. “Hayi,” he said softly, “I’m just as lost as you are; as afraid and as tired as you,” he paused, finally understanding what his brother was trying to say earlier on. “But if you could choose, why not choose to live in the moment?” Today was their last, and while it wasn’t going to be easy – no decision ever is – at least, maybe, hopefully, he had Hayi as a friend, as a confidant, as a person.

She pulled away from him with tear stained face, and searched his eyes for meaning. She just wanted to understand, too. “I need to feel something, Hanbin.”

“Then feel the world with me.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

He cupped her face onto her palm and smiled, “But together we can.”

. . .

A month flew by quicker than they both had anticipated. As they both sat on the ledge, Hanbin and Hayi watched the day turn into night, flocks of birds fly high, and cotton candy clouds pass them by. Sometimes, Hayi still thought about pressing a tiny piece of metal onto her skin but most of the time, Hanbin helped her through it. It was the same for Hanbin, there were days he itched for a stick but most of the time he chose to get high on Hayi’s presence alone. The days have been harder, and the world remained the same since. But they had each other, and they continued to have one another for days to come.

“You know I’m starting to get really jealous with the amount of time you two spend together,” Bobby’s deep and husky voice interrupted.

Just like that, there were three.