An invisible fist squeezes down on my heart, a sharp, pulsing pain, only to let go when I’ve gotten accustomed to it.

I’m stupid, I’m being stupid, I know it, but I’m committed now.

Jaeyong walks me to the door, Hoseung visibly flustered and maybe annoyed at my sudden departure. Haneul follows the pair of us to the door, nails clacking on the flooring, an audible reminder to take care of his paws even if I’m not the one doing it. I don’t say anything though—it’s not my place.

I stuff my feet in my sneakers, leaving the house slippers behind and setting them off to the side. I grab my purse hanging off the coat rack, settle it across my body, do the cursory check that I have everything, focusing on the simple task as my stupid eyeballs well up with tears for some dumbass reason.

Just keep it together a little longer, all right? Suck it up, we’re almost out of here, we’re almost out of here…

“Raleigh?”

“Yeah?” I answer, voice steady and firm, turning into an ice queen in a moment while I’m crumbling on the inside. I check my purse for my wallet and then pull out my phone and bus pass from the app and make sure my eyes stay trained anywhere but on Jaeyong’s face. I sigh, moving the tension out of my shoulders, opening and closing my mouth so my jaw doesn’t flare with pain when I’ve clenched down so hard.

“You don’t have to go.”

I listen to his words and what he’s not saying.

I huff a sad little sound, one that Jaeyong’s not accustomed to, doesn’t know what it means. I had him as my friend once upon a time, he doesn’t know what I sound like when I’m lying, not really.

“It’s cool. I’m sure you wanna hang out with your hyung. Enjoy the evening, yeah?” I force myself to look up at him, for the first time not seeing the boy I knew mapped in his features. He’s a complete stranger now, and it took another person for me to see that.

I was thinking too hard about it, anyway, hoping too much for it, longing for something that wasn’t there, that couldn’t be.

Jaeyong’s still beautiful, high cheekbones, full mouth, inky brown eyes that are steady on me, reading me as if he has the right.

How to express the past twelve years without bursting into tears, how very lonely I was without him, how my life changed when he left…

Yeah, better not.

I watch, as if from some distance outside my body, as he tries to make a grab for my hand, reaching for me, but the physical touch would be too much, too much for me, for him, hinting at a closeness I want but don’t feel at the moment.

“I’ll see you around,” I say, giving him a hint of a smile, turning the doorknob and letting myself out, heading towards the staircase door instead of waiting for the elevator.

It’s not until I hit the staircase that I hear his door close, sound echoing oddly in an apartment building, no matter where it’s built.

God, what did I think was going to happen? What the hell did I think was going to happen?

The ride home has me feeling shitty about a situation I could not control. I try to talk myself out of my feelings, until I give up, stew in it, get home, only to grab my bag and head to the gym after changing into appropriate clothes, needing a hard workout to turn my brain off—not wanting to think.

I jog for thirty minutes on the treadmill, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in my belly, until I’m wrung out on the walk back home at eleven o’clock at night aching for some asshole to try me right now so I can let out some of my aggression.

When I get home, I’m resigned to the fact that my supposed friendship with Jaeyong is going to be harder than I thought, vowing to myself that I need to make more friends here, be more open, not so closed-off like I was back home.

I’m in freaking Seoul. Seoul!

I speak Korean! I have a job! I can do fucking anything I want!

Anything!

But for tonight, I’m gonna let myself hurt for a little bit, be gentle with myself and try to stifle the negative self-talk that wants to run rampant in my head. I’m gonna take a hot, hot shower, drink lots of water to hydrate my sore muscles, and wake up tomorrow morning, Saturday, and get to exploring the city in a way I haven’t before.

I hike up the stairs to my apartment, not wanting to wait for the elevator to come down, something about them late at night giving me the worst case of the goosebumps. I’m not paying too much attention, my muscles already tired and sore until I come to a full stop in the hallway to my apartment.

I stop and blink at Jaeyong sitting in front of my door, back pressed against it, his whole face out for the world to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt, pointing at him. Jaeyong turns to me, a sloppy smile on his face.

Oh.

Oh.

How much did he have to drink to smile at me like that? He’s six foot three and has at least forty pounds on me. He had two beers back at dinner—there’s no way he’s drunk, right? Korean night culture is a thing, and Jaeyong can’t be a lightweight. Can he?

“Raleigh!” he booms, too loud for this late at night, even if my neighbours seem to be a few college-aged kids that are probably out drinking and partying for the start of the semester, dating, loving, connecting with one another.

“Raleigh!” he yells again just as loud, placing his finger over his mouth as if he’s shushing me instead.

Yup. He’s clearly inebriated. Clearly.

Why do I find it cute? Ugh. Somebody save me. Somebody!

“You okay there, buddy?”

Jaeyong nods, eyes sliding closed, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he’s consumed, probably hot to the touch if I placed my palms on either side of his face. “Wanted to see you. So I’m here.”

“How did you even get here? Please don’t tell me you drove.” I move to stand closer to him, grunting as I crouch down, my muscles already protesting the movement, compounded with the soreness of yesterday’s workout. In other words, I’m gonna have the best sleep.

Jaeyong shakes his head almost violently, then groans when he stops, the movement hitting him. “No. Got driven.”

“Do you think you can stand up for me, Jaeyong?” I ask, holding out my hands once I get vertical myself, eyeing his size and wondering if I’m going to get hit with a Jaeyong-sized missile as he rockets up. Which, consequently, wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything.

He gasps, looking down at my hands, putting his super-large ones in mine, smiling at me like he knows he’s in safe hands, and that hurts me sweetly, in a way that makes all of my annoyance at myself deflate a little, pushing it away to be obsessed over at a later time.

I help him upright, Jaeyong dropping his hands from mine, his legs still moving as I take a step back. I lean down to press my shoulder against his belly, and lift him up in a fireman’s carry, letting out a grunt when I got him situated over my shoulder, Jaeyong letting out a pitiful wheeze that could be a laugh or a sob, I’m not sure.

I open my door, pass code chiming, getting us both inside without turning too much and braining him, and I walk inside with my shoes, like an animal, and lean down enough to have Jaeyong sprawled on my couch. His hands immediately go to his head, me rushing into the kitchen to grab the garbage can and sprinting back to place it in front of him in case he yaks.

He doesn’t vomit but stares down at my garbage can with an intensity that makes me wonder if he’s seeing something that I’m not.

I head back to the kitchen, throwing my gym bag on the floor, and get Jaeyong a bottle of water, unscrewing it for him before handing it over. He takes a few careful sips, smiling at me in thanks, and I realize I’m hovering.

Ugh. Why?

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower. Can you hold in whatever you gotta hold for me to take one? I’ll be done in fifteen, tops.”

Jaeyong nods slowly, eyes sliding closed as he carefully leans back into my couch, letting out a long, heavy breath, bottle of water held on top of his thigh.

I rush through my shower and putting on my jammies, rushing through brushing my teeth, and my nighttime skincare routine, letting my hair loose, even though it’s gotten greasy from running tonight.

I head outside to find that Jaeyong’s watching something on my TV, hand on the remote, just watching the images pass him by, not really reacting to anything.

“You okay?” I ask, pitching my voice low enough so that I don’t startle him.

“The water’s helping,” Jaeyong murmurs, taking another long drag on the bottle, throat working. “Come and sit,” he says, patting the couch.

I take a seat, startled to find that we’re back to watching Deadpool, the torture scenes where Wade loses his ever-loving mind and breaks the fourth wall with regularity after that.

“I didn’t want you to leave before,” he says, and I glance at his profile, watch him take another sip of water. I don’t say anything, don’t say anything at all. “Hoseung-hyung grew up here, and he doesn’t really know what to do with foreigners. There was bound to be something lost in translation.”

I try to shrug it off, wanting to tell him, but afraid to. “It’s fine. I’m glad you got to spend time with him.”

“I wanted to spend time with you. Haneul whined the rest of the night.”

“Just Haneul, huh?” I say, trying to keep the smile from my face. It’s then that he looks over to me, the both of us caught now.

It’s heavy, the air, the very atoms suspended in the distance between us. I’m sitting a little too close for comfort, my knee pressing into the side of his muscular thigh (I can tell just from that one point of contact).

“No. Not just Haneul,” Jaeyong admits on a sigh, his head sagging onto his hand, elbow planted on the back of the couch.

“Is that why you’re here?” I ignore the swoop in my belly, the way my heart rate’s skyrocketing.

He nods, slowly, carefully, finally finishing off the water bottle. I move off the couch and grab him another one from the fridge and take my seat again. “I don’t really know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Jaeyong,” I say, lying my face off, lying it right off.

He quirks an eyebrow, looking like a magazine spread even while he’s off his face.

“Everybody wants something.”

“Fine, then. Your friendship,” I say, frowning at him. He sounds so…sad?

“Yeah?” Jaeyong asks, turning towards me, leaning his head back on the couch cushions, getting comfortable. I stifle a yawn, looking away as tears flood my eyeballs. “You want to be friends with me again?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

I shake my head at him, tugging at my earrings on my lobes, trying to distract myself. “We can be friends. We can definitely be friends. I don’t know if you want to be friends, though.”

“Of course I want to be friends! You came into my life again for a reason, yeah?”

“Jaeyong,” I say, voice hard. “I showed up to Seoul for the express purpose of working here, and I came to the fansign by pure chance. End of story.”

Jaeyong shuts his eyes, mouth slackening, and I’m afraid he’s fallen asleep. But no, he brings the bottle up to his lips and takes another swig. “You found me again. That has to mean something, has to.”

My heart thumps inside my chest, loud in my ears. “No, not really.”

He fights to open his eyes, squinting at me like he’s waiting for me to come into focus. “Yes. It does.”

“Okaaayyyy, we’re not settling this tonight. I’m gonna get you a cab,” I say, wondering how he’s going to get up to his apartment in this state of inebriation, how he’s probably going to be recognized, and it’ll be all over the news tomorrow, that Min Jaeyong had too much to drink and fucked up his idol image because of it.

It’s not my problem, but I would still feel shitty about it.

“Can I just stay on the couch? It’s so comfy. Seriously, what’s in here that makes it so comfy?” Jaeyong clutches at the cushions, as if he can discern what makes it so comfortable by touch alone, when it’s clearly all in his head.

I think about it, wanting to trust him, having found him after so long, holding onto the friend I once had maybe too tightly. But things are different now, so different.

I have a lock on my bedroom door, and I had to take self-defense classes to keep myself from feeling defenseless again. I could fuck him up if I wanted to; I’m strong, I’m capable.

This isn’t a good idea, I know it’s not a good idea.

What am I going to do, though? Tell him no when he’s like this? Boot him out on his ass?

No, I’m not going to do that.

“Yeah, sure. Let me get you some blankets.”