Scream

LuHan, holding a box of chocolates, anxiously, with trembling hands, knocked the door of apartment number 12.

“Baozi, it's LuHan.” He waited, as the door flung open and a petite man came out, with an amiable smile.

“Hello, did you came to see MinSeok?” LuHan's chest crushed a little at the image of a man,ordinarily coming out of his apartment with a bowl of ramen in his hand. Looks like he knows this place, like he stayed the night.

“Oh, no, it's nothing, sorry, wrong room I guess.” He bowed and left in haste, hoping to find a bar near, quickly.

He arrived at the shop and turned the lights on. Somehow, the created an impression of smaller... But in a perfect condition, MinSeok cleaned it up in his spare time, not a single bit of dust. He explored the stocks of CD's until his hands were holding his song. Comptine d'Un Autre Ete. The quiet melody of the piano sounded in the room, single notes of the polyrhytm, one louder than other, crescending and accelerating. More anguished, his own nursery, his own harmony, his own melody. He withdrawed into blackness when his eyes closed in the main part of the instrumental. Memories played back, so vivid, yet so dead.

“I'm not coming back Soo...”

All absurd. All lies. His life was a delusion, when he held YiXing but felt SuHo's arms around him. He made a pledged to not ever fall this hard again, to hold love back, to only stay for a while. He condemned himself for playing on his friend's feelings, the way the melody builds up, only to end unexpectedly, leaving a feeling a numbness and finality.

Was he deceiving himself each time he wished for a single call, a message? Desperately listening to this song to remember, because there was nothing left of him. Closing himself in this plac...

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Seems like I'm not the only lonely soul here, looks like he has it hard too.

KyungSoo opened the door to the apartment and saw his brother sat down on the sofa, watching TV and holding a phone in his hand.

“Shit, KyungSoo yah, where were you?” He gave him a hug and slapped his arm lightly. “Next time, pick up the phone, it's nearly half past twelve.”

“Sorry hyung.” KyungSoo didn't bother to look him in the eyes. His hyung seemed concerned, which wasn't something new, but KyungSoo felt happy that someone worried, yet didn't wanted to worry him at the same time. He made his way to his room.

“Wait, Kyung, thank you.” He handed the donsaeng a white, glass coffee cup with french drawings on it. “I though you'd like one, you always seem so dead in the morning.” He patted his shoulder and gave him a moment to appraciate the present.

“But, what for?”

“I'm engaged.”