Jake noticed it, too. In fact, he noticed it almost often enough that he felt the need to tease you about it every time you sat down next to him for Mr Accetta's physics class on Thursday morning, his shoulder brushing yours as he grinned mischievously, eyes twinkling with mirth and great amusement behind the lenses of his glasses.

“You know,” he hums, doodling stars and what you assume to be a mangled “artistic” sketch of Layla, his dog, in the corners of his notebook with a very pink, glittering ink pen. “I kept count again, and I am pleased to inform you that I have got updated stats for the week.”

“Jake, don't start,” you groan, keeping your voice hushed so that old Mr Accetta doesn't catch the two of you talking in his class. The old Italian man was a great teacher and a bit of a gentle giant, but had little to no tolerance for whispered conversations during his lectures, a lesson you'd learnt the hard way during the first month of the freshman year of high school. “If Mr Accetta catches us, we're both going to be salami.”

“As if he'd say anything to me,” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses higher back up his nose. “I'm his favourite student. He'll automatically give you an excuse because it's me.”

“Narcissistic prick.” You kick his leg underneath the table, and he winces in pain. Shooting you a quick look of offense, he kicks your calf with the heel of his shoe in retaliation. “It's the truth,” he hisses through his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his leg. “If you want to be spared from his lectures, then get better at physics. At least that way I don't have to tutor you every weekend.”

“I do well enough in physics,” you counter, quieting as Mr Accetta passes by your row. Jake snorts under his breath, tapping his pen against his notes with a look that screams ‘Really? YOU?’ and you barely resist the urge to smack the sophomore. “That's because I tutor you,” he pushes your elbow off the desk, “and you should be grateful I do, because I certainly do not enjoy thirdwheeling you and Sunoo the entire time.”

Your ears burn hot at his words. You promptly ignore them, and level a light glare at Jake. “You don't have to tutor me when he's around, then.” He tuts, shaking his finger. “Where's the fun in that? I'll miss my dose of weekly entertainment watching you squirm under Sunoo's gaze the entire time, then.” He dodges your attempt at whacking his head. “Seriously, you're both so in love, it sickens me. It's like no matter where you go, or how far apart the two of you are, you'll always go back to him.”

“Do you find a particular joy in my suffering, Sim?” You grumble, scribbling in the ‘X’ for your turn in the fifth game of Noughts and Crosses that started fifteen minutes into the class. “You're absolutely correct,” Jake sketches in the ‘O’ for his turn, leaning back in his seat with a pleased hum as he draws a line to win the game, three in a row. “And by the way, you'd actually suffer much less if you took my advice to heart and confessed to him.”

“He doesn't like me that way,” you mutter, cheering softly under your breath as you get your second win with an ‘O’ scribbled into the center of the new grid. Jake looks at you like you're absolutely dumb for saying that out loud, his pen hovering over the paper. “He looks at you like you've descended from heaven very specifically for him. Anytime you're both around in the same room, the first people you look for are each other. Don't give me that bullshit, alright?”

Before you can answer him, Mr Accetta's loud voice booms through the classroom, pointed towards the two of you. “What's the formula to calculate the escape velocity for an object leaving earth, keeping in mind surface gravity?” Thankfully, Jake's mildly ruthless style of tutoring has prepared you for surprise questions, and the formula slips past your lips as quickly as it can. “Square root of 2gr.”

Mr Accetta gives you a pleased nod, questioning Jake next, who answers the question with a calm, casual, and languid ease, the kind that comes when you're extremely sure about what you're doing. It infuriates and amuses you at the same time, because there's something so special about your best friend that is so dearly, incredibly endearing, for a lack of better term.

Jake turns back to you, a smug grin on his face. “Guess you really did listen to my tutoring instead of staring longingly at Sunoo's face the entire time.” You promptly stomp his foot. He jerks his leg high enough to knock his knee into the desk, screaming silently at the pain. The rest of the class turns your way at the sound, but when they don't find anything worth their time and interest, they turn away.

Glaring at you, he wipes the tears forming at the corner of his eyes with one hand, the other still cradling his sore knee. Settling back into his seat, he flips you off, before returning his attention to Mr Accetta once more.

You smile at the sight, turning back to the board. Your notes are a mess, streaks of pink glitter from Jake's pen still dusting the edges of your pages. You'll steal his later, and while he'll complain and whine about it, his hand will still be the one holding the book out for you to take.

The tips of your ears still burn, and your pulse still thrums like the strings and chords of a well-loved guitar under your skin.

Of course, it always started with the small things.

Sunoo is the sun personified, you decide, on a Thursday afternoon.

But it's not just any Thursday afternoon. The sun warms the pavement with gentle rays, and the sky is so blue and the clouds so fluffy and white, you'd think it was a scene pulled from a Ghibli animation. The roar of the sea is quieter at this point of time, but the salty, humid air of a seaside summer still clings to your skin.

There are a few birds chirping, their calls as sweet as the scent of the hibiscus that lingers in the passing wind, joining the gentle sway of the bougainvillea vine that's ever-so-sneakily creeped over the railings of the outdoor balcony, as the humming and chattering in the background quieten to a soft hush.

Everything about this day is perfect.

And really, why wouldn't it be? Because sitting across from you is Kim Sunoo, blond hair shining like strands of gold against the dancing rays of sunlight that filter through tiny gaps in the restaurant's terracotta tiled roof.

He's resting his head on his hand, browsing through the menu. As if feeling the weight of your lingering stare, he raises his head and catches your gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle, almost disappearing, as his lips curve into the gentlest and softest of smiles. “Am I really that interesting?” He teases, but the hand that was holding the menu earlier is already making its way across the table, before it finds your own. “I doubt anything about me begs this great of a level of detailed attention. Most people aren't this attentive to me.”

His fingers thread with yours. Your pulse nearly stutters to a halt. Your ears burn with heat.

Still, you squeeze his hand.

“You're interesting to me.”

Sunoo blinks at that, as if he hadn't expected the answer. Perhaps he'd expected a joke, a deflection, or maybe even embarrassed avoidance—but not whatever… this was. A confession? An admission? Simply a statement? Or was it a fact? You're not sure what to call it yourself.

But something about your words—quietly spoken into the wind, with no hesitation behind them—must've clicked with him, because his expression softens some more, warmth seeping like dripping honey into the brown of his irises. His thumb rubs circles over the backs of your knuckles, before he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a gentle, reverent kiss against them.

The touch is fleeting—barely lasting a fraction of a second—but the featherlight press of his lips against your skin speaks to you more than a thousand words ever could. His eyes fall shut, even as he turns your hand over to kiss your palm, before finally leaving a last one on the inside of your wrist, this one lingering longer than the other two.

His hand still holds onto yours, the warmth of his body seeping through yours. Your skin still tingles in the places his lips had been to, but the shiver that trails down your spine is a pleasant one. When he opens his eyes once more, Sunoo smiles when he meets your own.

Your pulse quickens again.

But this time, it's because Sunoo's the one holding the guitar of your heart, thrumming the strings along to his whims, as he hums a melody of his own. You follow it without question, heartbeat spiking and dipping with the notes he's set in place for you.

Strangely, you don't mind it. If having him meant that you'd have to place your heart in his hands, you know that you'd do it without hesitation.

The reasoning behind it is simple.

Because this is the same young boy who cried over a fallen flower back when you were anything but tiny little kids all those years ago because he thought the plant would die. Because you know if you handed it to him, he'd cradle it with the greatest of care.

Because it's Sunoo.

And that's enough for you.

The chill of the swimming pool shocks you to your bones.

When you surface back up, clothes and hair clinging tightly to your skin, the perpetrators behind the “crime” of pushing you into the water grin down at you, blocking the sun from you with their shadows.

Jake and Sunoo sport matching, mischievous grins—the kind that tell you that they didn't have an ounce of regret about what they've just done. It's also the kind of grin that just makes you want to get back at them, because the way they look is so endearingly annoying.

Like a pair of cats who got the cream and licked it clean with zero remorse.

The corners of your mouth twitch upward.

Sunoo is the one who spots it first, because of course he's the one who notices everything about you first. Jake sees it a second later, but it's still a second far too late, because you're already leaping over the coping, water dripping onto the concrete as you grab both of them by their ankles and drag them in with a loud splash.

When you surface again, Sunoo and Jake are on either side of you, staring back at you with equal, identical looks of offense, like they couldn't believe what you'd just done. You hold their gazes for a moment longer, wet hair plastered to your forehead, the water rippling gently around the three of you.

Then, Sunoo laughs.

It's not one of those loud, full-bellied laughs, but it is one of those tiny, hushed ones that only come out when the two of you are up at 3 AM, trying not to laugh too hard at the videos you're watching because one of you couldn't fall asleep, the laughter being more snickers than giggles because you don't want to disturb the neighbours.

Jake joins in right after, his shoulders shaking as he giggles, leaning against the pool’s wall for support. Your own chuckles meld into the harmony of theirs, slipping in like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Sunoo swims over to you, his sleek figure cutting through the water in clean waves, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body. “Had your fun, huh?” He tries his hardest to pretend to be annoyed, even frowning a little, but his eyes—oh, those pretty brown eyes—immediately give him away.

Not because they're crinkling at the corners the way they do when he smiles.

No, it's because of something else entirely.

It's because they look at you with such fondness it hurts.

Like you're the only thing he sees, in between the chaos of the pool party at Jay's. Over Riki's screaming and shrieking, over the sound of Sunghoon and Jay calling for him to be careful, over Heeseung's loud yells of glee as he sprays Jungwon and Riki with a water gun while Jake eggs him on.

He looks at you like you're his past, present, and his future—and he seems so sure of it all, that it leaves you breathless. The world slows down to a stop, the sun aligning just enough to create a little halo behind his head, the blond strands shining so beautifully—and the noise around you quietens to only the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, the air in your lungs still having trouble on the way out, smiling at him. “What are you going to do about it, hm?”

He mirrors your expression, his grin slowly widening as he takes you in. “Nothing much,” he hums, a hand coming up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “Just a little punishment, nothing else.”

“And,” you lick your lips just a little, and his eyes follow the small movement for the slightest of seconds, before they flicker back to yours, “what might this little… punishment be?”

Your eyes never leave his, and neither do his break away from you.

“Just this,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, as both his hands come to cradle your face properly, “and nothing else.”

Then, his lips are on yours, as he pours in everything he feels into the kiss.

His hands are still cold from the pool, but they slowly warm up as the heat from your skin seeps into his own. His thumb rubs circles on the apple of your cheek, while his other one tangles itself into your hair as he deepens the kiss. A sweet, syrupy sort of warmth spreads through your veins, and you welcome it wholeheartedly.

It burns and sizzles through the traces of everything else, until there's nothing else left in this world but the two of you.

At least until Jungwon interrupts.

“Oi, lovebirds!” He giggles, and now having wrestled the water gun away from Heeseung, he turns it on the two of you. “Get a room, or get soaked!”

Sunoo breaks away with a small scream from the coldness of the water, but his arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist, even as he playfully glares at the younger boy. “Oh, Yang Jungwon, you're so dead.”

Jungwon runs around the poolside deck as Sunoo finally lets go of you to chase after him, their feet leaving wet footprints all over the wood. Riki and Sunghoon swoop in to “help,” while Heeseung, Jay, and Jake cheer them on from where they lounge in the sun.

The laugh that bubbles out of you this time is loud and free and everything that you feel, watching all the people you cherish and love be so happy without a care. Sunoo's blond hair whips with the wind as he runs around, and your chest warms at the sight.

Yeah, there's no question about it.

You're absolutely, incorrigibly, undeniably in love with Kim Sunoo.

Jake's fingers are warm, as they brush against your nape.

Sunoo watches from nearby, with his arms crossed over his chest and a little quirk of his lips, as he leans against the old mahogany dresser in your bedroom.

“It looks good,” he finally speaks, strolling over to let his fingers brush against the smooth metal of the pendant resting on your collarbones, just as Jake steps away to sit on your bed instead. “You know my girlfriend so well, Sim.”

“Of course I do,” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “I've known this brat since she was but a snotty-nosed little toddler.”

You cuddle into Sunoo's side, and he presses a quick kiss to your temple, even as you stretch your leg to half-heartedly kick Jake on the shin. “I was not a snotty-nosed toddler. Are you really sure that your memory isn't failing you as we get older?”

“Oh, we're really going there now?” Jake scoffs in playful offense. “You want me to pull out the photographic evidence?” He threatens, hands already reaching for his pocket. “Your baby pictures are enough to prove my claim.”

“Why do you even have my baby pictures, you muppet?” You question, arm resting around Sunoo's waist. “Because your mum sends them to me.” He snorts, unlocking his phone.

“What?” Your offended shriek echoes around the four corners of the room. “Why is my mum sending my baby pictures to you of all people?!”

“Because she loves me,” Jake shrugs like it's only natural fact that your mother absolutely adores him (and it is, really, considering how long your family has known the Sims for), “perhaps even more than you.”

“OI!”

He laughs harder at your expression, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

“If it helps,” Sunoo quips dryly, brushing a few strands out of your face. “Your mother sends them to me regularly as well.”

“It does not help!” You shriek, betrayed at the thought of your mother sending both your boyfriend and best friend embarrassing childhood pictures of yours.

“Well,” Sunoo shrugs casually, “at least I can say that I tried. Also, you were really cute as a kid.”

“As a kid,” Jake emphasises, pointing a pillow at you, “now she's just an obnoxious gremlin who likes to disturb my peace as soon as she gets a day off from her job.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, raising a brow in jest. “That I can't deny,” he hums, his fingers brushing along your arm. “But I must confess that I greatly enjoy the fact that she always wants to spend time together.”

You roll your eyes, but still kiss his cheek. Jake pretends to gag at the sight, clutching his chest. “Ugh, get a room! Leave! Shoo!”

You throw his empty can of Monster Ultra resting on your vanity at his head.

“You're in my room, you donkey! If anyone should be leaving, it's you!”

“Ugh, she's kicking me out already!” Jake's half-running, half-giggling as he makes his way out of your bedroom, before turning back to face both Sunoo and you in the doorway. “Thanks for keeping her out of my hands, Kim! See you!" he sings out, waving at your boyfriend.

Then he's off, slamming the door shut behind him just as you throw a pillow in his direction.

Sunoo laughs, his other arm wrapping around you as well to trap you in his embrace, his chest warm against your back even through the fabric of your shirt. “Well, he's not wrong. I'm more than happy to keep you to myself.”

Your hands come to rest on top of his, as the two of you sway in your bedroom to an invisible melody. “Good thing I wanna stay with you, then?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours in the mirror of your vanity. “Saves me the hassle of convincing you to stay.”

“Lucky you.” Your reflection sports a wide smile, the two little koi fishes (the one you'd taken to nicknaming as Sunoo and Jake in your head) on your pendant glinting in the evening sunrays.

“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your neck affectionately. “Lucky me, indeed.”

Lucky you, indeed. Ordinary days aren't so bad if they're spent with him.

Butterscotch seems to like cuddling Sunoo far more than you these days.

You stare at the cat sitting in your boyfriend's lap, curled up into a mangled little croissant of a ginger cat over his thighs, purring so loud that you can feel it in your bones.

“Butter,” you poke his little whiskered cheek, as Sunoo huffs in amusement at the sight. “You've always been a mama's boy. Why are you sticking to the spare human all of a sudden?”

That draws a snort from Sunoo, his hand reaching out to smooth over the few tufts of unruly fur sticking out from Butterscotch's fluffy coat. “Is that what I'm relegated to now? Not even ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’?”

You stick your tongue out at him, poking Sunoo's cheek. “Yes, you're the spare human right now, because Butterscotch hasn't cuddled with me for three days straight. He's even begun to sleep on your side of the bed!”

“Good,” he pinches your cheek in retaliation, a smug smile on his face. “At least now you'll understand what it feels like to be given only an inch of space on the bed because my girlfriend and my son are too busy cuddling with each other.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “We do not take up that much space on the bed.”

Sunoo scoffs, though the sound is more amused than sarcastic. “I'm always half a turn away from toppling to the floor.”

“You'll be fine. The floors are warm.”

“So is the bed.”

“You can survive one night on the flooring.”

“I could, but only if you don't hog all the blankets at night.”

“I do not hog the blankets!” You definitely do, and you're well aware of that fact.

“Sure, you don't. And Butterscotch doesn't scream at us for breakfast at exactly 5:50 AM on the dot.”

“Sunoo!”

“You don't have to say my name so many times, you know? You did enough of that last night.”

You punch his arm.

He laughs harder.

But so do you.

“Butter, come back to mama,” you try to coax the little orange menace into your arms, but he stubbornly remains splayed on your boyfriend, even affectionately headbutting Sunoo's chin in response to your calls.

Sunoo snickers, leaning down to let Butterscotch brush against his head, a hand coming up to support the cat. “You're asking a senior citizen to listen to you. That is foolish, no?”

“He may be fourteen, but he has perfectly functional ears,” you huff. Sunoo kisses the top of Butterscotch's head. “Yeah, perfectly functional ears that he is using at the moment to ignore you.”

You pout, and Butterscotch finally relents his onslaught of affection on Sunoo, and turns to you for a little kitty kiss that you gratefully accept. “There's my boy.”

You scratch under his chin and the orange cat purrs happily, but his tail still reaches out to wrap around Sunoo's arm. “Do you want me to be closer, Butter?”

Butterscotch only meows once at him, and Sunoo moves close enough that there's no space remaining between the two of you, his thigh brushing against yours as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. “Is that better, cutie?”

Satisfied with the proximity that's been created, Butterscotch’s purring grows louder and he settles between you and Sunoo, an equal half splayed across the both of your laps.

“Guess we've got to abandon the rest of the day, then,” Sunoo murmurs, a finger brushing over Butterscotch's closed eyes. “His Highness wants to cuddle with us.”

The trees sway with the wind, steadily growing obscured to the vision as fog takes over. The low rumble of thunder rolls outside, before the spitter-patter of raindrops against window panes slowly grows louder.

The apartment is warm, and the coffee machine buzzes with a low hum, still trying to make Sunoo's coffee for the past half an hour. You'll have to call the company and ask for a replacement.

But that can come later.

For now, you lay your head on Sunoo's shoulder. He rests his on top of yours. Butterscotch is now asleep in your laps, dreaming of things only kitties do.

It always is the little things that matter.

Jake shows up first, a bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand.

“Hey,” you smile at him. “You brought Butterscotch's favourite flowers.”

He mirrors the expression, though it's more somber and subdued than usual. “Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Needed to make sure that the little guy could smell his favourite scents. He adores them so much, after all.”

You move to the side to welcome him into the apartment, and he walks in, his footsteps soft and careful, as if afraid to disturb the quiet that had settled over your home.

Heeseung and Jungwon arrive second, carrying an old, worn out toy each. They nod in acknowledgement, light footsteps making their way into the living room. You don't follow, opting to pace by the doorway instead.

Riki, Jay, and Sunghoon show up not more than twenty minutes after, Riki's hands tightly clutched around a brand new pack of tuna treats, while there's a baby blanket slung over Sunghoon's arm. The oldest of the three hugs you tightly, his hands warm against your back.

You lean into Jay, taking in the quiet feelings that bleed through his touch.

The clock echoes twice, signalling the arrival of the second hour of the afternoon.

You finally join them to reunite with the others in the living room, where they're circled around Sunoo on the floor. He leans his head against the sofa, eyes closed as if weighed by the dark shadows under them. Exhaling softly, he huffs out a tired breath when his eyes meet yours.

You take the time to take him in.

His blond hair, so vibrant before, is a bit more dull now. He's paler from the lack of sleep, but you suppose that you don't quite fare much better than him anyways. He gives you an exhausted smile, and pats the little space next to him.

Your eyes trail down to his lap, where Butterscotch lays on a giant, fluffy pillow. Jake brings over the vase of flowers, setting it down onto the wooden floors with a soft ‘Clink!’ that rings out in the apartment far louder than it should. Butterscotch lifts his head, nose twitching as he catches the faint wisp of the flowers’ scent.

Jay holds them closer for him. The feline takes a deep whiff, then lays his head back down. Riki extends his hand to feed him his sixth treat of the hour. Butterscotch eats it anyway.

The clock in the hallway chimes again. 2:30 PM.

You make your way over to them, cuddling into Sunoo's side. He leans his head on your shoulder, hair tickling your skin, but you don't move away. His eyes remain on Butterscotch the entire time.

Sunghoon drapes the baby blanket over him, tucking the corners under the cat, so that he's bundled up in the way he loves to be held. Jungwon and Heeseung wave the toys around, and Butterscotch bats at them exactly twice. They still smile at the sight.

The clock chimes thrice. 3:00 PM.

The bell rings. Nobody moves.

Then Jay gets to his feet, shuffling over to the door. The young woman you've gotten acquainted with over the past two years as Butterscotch's vet walks in, her nose and eyes red. She says it's from the cold on the way over to the apartment.

You don't point out that it's still June.

Jungwon and Riki move to make space for her. She kneels on the floor, leaning her head down to brush her forehead against Butterscotch's head. “Hi, Butterscotch,” her voice is soft, and the feline makes a low noise in his throat, one that you can only consider to be an acknowledgement. “It's Anya. You remember me? You purred so much I couldn't hear your heartbeat the last time I saw you.”

Butterscotch's slow purring starts again, and Sunoo runs his fingers through his fur.

Nobody comments on how laboured it is.

Riki silently hands her the bag of treats. She feeds Butterscotch three instead of her usual two. Then she smoothes his fur over, pressing a kiss to his head.

Sunghoon and Jungwon gently ink both his front paws. Jake carefully presses them onto the paper, leaving behind inked impressions of his paws and toe beans.

You wipe them clean, scratching under his chin.

The rest of the entire process is quick and efficient. Anya doesn't say a word the entire time. Neither do you.

Butterscotch twitches twice, and your hand instinctively reaches out to lay on his side.

The breath you've held the entire time finally seeps out of your lungs.

Sunoo lifts the pillow, and places a kiss onto Butterscotch's head, between his ears.

Anya pulls the stethoscope away, and nods her head.

You give her a watery smile. When she leaves, a heavy silence settles over the room. There's no one speaking. No one breathes out loud.

Then, you lean down to kiss the little orange menace.

Butterscotch doesn't lift his head this time.

Six pairs of arms wrap around you, as Butterscotch lays splayed across Sunoo's and your lap. This time, he remains still.

This time, the bell on his collar doesn't jingle softly as his head rests on Sunoo's palm.

The sound of the door to your bedroom slamming open is incredibly loud and jarring.

It brings you out of your daze, and when you look up from your feet, you find a fuming Jake standing in the doorway.

His breaths are heavy and laboured, as if he'd run all the way to you. Sweat drips down his temple, dropping to his white tee. His glasses are askew, his hair is all over the place, as if the wind had mussed it up, and his flannel is disheveled, one side falling off of his shoulder, while his socks are mismatched, one navy blue and one white.

He meets your eyes, and the fury in his own grows tenfold.

“What the fuck is he doing?” He hisses, storming over to you. You flinch at the volume, and he notices, softening his voice a little, although it does nothing to hide how angry he is. “Why did Jungwon call this morning to tell me that you and Sunoo broke up because he wanted “something more”? Did I seriously hear him right?”

You don't answer him.

Actually, it's more like you don't know how to.

So you keep quiet.

“No fucking way,” Jake breathes out, dropping to his knees next to where you're sat on your bed. “Did he just wake up and leave?”

“Jake.” Your voice is soft, and Jake's heart breaks at how small you sound. “It's not what you think it is.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I think I know what this is,” he snarls, scowling as he fists the sheets in rage and sadness. “I told you, he was acting so fucking weird since the time Butterscotch passed. At first, I tried to pass it off as just grief and that he was in mourning, and that I shouldn't say anything because different people grieve in different ways, but then he pulled away from all of us.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Jake doesn't let you, continuing his heated rant.

“It's been a year since then! It was okay when he started getting distant and pulling away. First, he wouldn't come around often, telling us he was ‘tired’ and ‘exhausted.’ Then he started speaking less and less to us. After that, he wouldn't even pick up our calls or read our messages, like he thought himself too good for us, but seriously?! He left you behind for something “better”?! What else or who else could he find that's better than you?!”

“Jake.”

He doesn't listen, continuing to ramble, his hands spinning and twisting in the air like a physical extension of his anger.

“Jake.” You try again.

He still doesn't hear you, his ranting growing louder and louder and louder till your head begins to throb from how much you've been crying all day.

“Jake!”

He stops still at the way you scream his name, and turns to face you properly for the first time since he arrived at your apartment. “Oh,” he breathes out, his own lip quivering at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes, and the way they're puffed from the way you've been sobbing since the morning when Sunoo finally left. “I'm so sorry, bug. I really am so sorry.”

His hands wrap around you in an embrace, but you don't return it.

He holds you for a bit longer, before finally letting go, as he looks up into your eyes. “Talk to me, bug. Tell me what's on your mind.”

You lick your chapped lips, before sighing softly.

“Sunoo's gone, Jake.”

“No, he's not. I'll bring him back, and he's going to apologise to you, and then the rest of us.”

“Jake.”

“I refuse to believe he just up and went.”

“Jake.”

“Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he really think I'll just let him walk away like that, after taking so much from you? Selfish fucking bastard.”

“Jake.”

“I'm sorry I ever considered him a friend.”

“Jake!”

“What?” He glares up at you, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, both at grief for himself and for you.

“Sunoo made his decision himself. We need to respect that.”

Jake looks like he's bitten something that's bitter and sour at the same time. But he doesn't speak anymore, because the finality in your words tell him that you've already accepted this fate.

“Right. Right,” he nods. “Respect the guy who couldn't even leave us with a respectable goodbye.”

“Jake.” Your voice breaks, but it doesn't stop him from standing up. He removes his glasses to wipe away his tears, and turns to you, his face completely blank, with any and all traces of rage and sadness erased from it.

“I'll order in some dinner for you. Have that, and go to sleep early. You've got a shift in the morning tomorrow. Or take the day off. I don't really care.”

You sigh softly.

“I…” He pauses, then nods his head again. “I'm going home. Layla's been very anxious as of late.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Take care.”

“… You too.”

Then he's off once more, the sound of the door falling shut behind him echoing far too loud in your ears.

You cry some more into Sunoo's hoodie, still bearing his scent from when he'd worn it a week ago.

At least the silver lining here is that your boss likes you quite a bit.

The city truly comes alive at night.

It's been three months since Sunoo left.

Everyone else—Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, Riki—came after Jake left your apartment that Thursday. They asked the same questions that he did. “Why did Sunoo leave like that, so abruptly?”

You still told them the same thing you told Jake.

“Please respect that it was Sunoo's decision to leave.”

They seemed put off by that answer. Their expressions screamed that they wanted an answer beyond that simple, final sentence, but you didn't quite have the words nor the energy to explain everything to them.

Riki and Jungwon seemed the most affected by your easy acceptance of Sunoo's departure. They'd been the closest to him after Jake, and to see you simply tell them to leave the matter alone by framing it as Sunoo's decision, must've really hurt them. Probably hurt quite a bit too, considering the frequency of their visits to your home had slowly begun to dwindle.

First it had been the youngest two.

Then it had been Heeseung and Sunghoon. Work kept them busy, but even then, you could see through the gaps where they had begun to form.

The last one had been Jay. He'd been over one night, aware of how everyone had begun to drift away. He said nothing, but the forlorn expression on his face as he left told you enough.

Only Jake came over as often as he used to. But even his visits were shorter, dropping by to check up on you, before he left. Layla had been steadily growing more anxious over the last few months, and he'd also got himself a girlfriend.

You'd met her once, when Jake invited you out to eat, after you'd spent one too many weekends staying at home. She was pretty, but she was also sweet and kind—the kind that was perfect for Jake.

You smile at the thought of her. At least Jake has someone to take care of him now.

The air seemed especially cold tonight, and you pull your scarf closer to yourself. The early September chill had begun to seep in, just as warmer jackets and scarves had begun to make their yearly reappearances once more.

The street buzzes around you, lamp posts diffusing golden light over the pathways. Golden, you pause under one, looking up at the sky where a single, lonely star twinkles by itself. Just like him and his hair.

Everything about tonight seemed to be connected to Sunoo.

You pass by the fourth corner of the seventh street, where stands a giant billboard with an advertisement for his favourite brand of soda.

Then comes the park, with a couple laughing and spending time with each other in the swings. 1 AM. Two cans of vanilla flavoured soda resting against the metal poles of the swings.

You continue to walk.

The animal shelter by the lakefront appears. It's still operating, low hums of the generator melding with the soft meows and yips of its residents, cut by the gentle human voices that speak to them. Pink carrier. He'd been the one to pick it out. A very grumpy, old, and annoyed orange cat meowing—actually, howling—in your backseat the entire time you drove back to your apartment.

You flit past the entrance.

The grocery store at the second avenue. The neon signs have been replaced by something that's easier to read. LEDs, perhaps. You're not sure. Midnight grocery runs. You were never really sure about whether you wanted the strawberry chews or the lemon ones, so he'd put both in, sneaking in a bag of mint chocolate too. You always looked away at the cashier's counter.

Your feet remain in continuous motion.

The café on the third exit of the roundabout. The decor is finally more tasteful now, the horrendously large lights replaced in favour of softer, warmer lanterns. He always said that his eyes hurt, even when he sat in the booth farthest from the lights. Still, he came back—and forced you to come with him—every time because he adored their brownies.

The barista flips the sign to ‘CLOSED’ just as you walk past the door.

The florist tucked away in the third alley. You've never really been here. It's just on the way during an easier shortcut on the way back home. They usually display their flowers in the windowfront. Sunflowers, daisies, orchids, dahlias. Tonight, it's roses.

More specifically, white roses.

Your feet come to a halt by the storefront.

Your reflection stares back at you. He'd tucked the delicate bouquet of white roses into your lap the moment you got into his car. “It's a Thursday, and what kind of person even brings white roses to a first date?” He'd smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. “The kind that takes his date to a restaurant by the sea for a first date.” You smiled back.

The florist peeks her head out of the door, tapping your shoulder. You blink, turning to look at her. She's probably not older than nineteen, that youthful flush still colouring her skin. She gives you a shy smile, pointing to the flowers. “Would you like a few?”

You stare at her for a few minutes.

Then, you smile. “Sure. Make it pretty, please.”

She gives you a pleased smile, and ushers you inside from the cold.

Looking at her deft fingers carefully arrange the bouquet to your liking, your chest warms, the metal of the little pendant with the koi fish warming with your skin. You pay and thank her, heading back outside, the scent of roses clinging to your skin now.

The air is colder, and your scarf comes loose by just a bit. The streetlamps still shine golden. You look up at the sky, which has grown cloudier now.

But now, a second star shines besides the first one. Its glow is dimmer than its counterpart, more silver than gold, but it still shines through the clouds.

You smile at the sight, clutching the bouquet closer.

Yes, Sunoo had made his decision.

It was now time to make yours.

The phone in your palm rings once, twice, thrice.

“Hello?” Jake picks up on the fourth ring. Layla's excited yips mix with the soft coos of his girlfriend in the background.

Your smile grows wider at the sound.

“Hey,” you greet. “Where are you?”

“At home, why?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Layla's finally a bit calmer now, so my girlfriend and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a date night.”

“That's good. Enjoy your time. Tell her that I said hi.” You hum softly.

“I will,” his voice is soft. “But did you need something? Why'd you call?”

“Oh, it's nothing much. Just wanted to tell you that I was going on a trip.”

“A trip? Now?” You hum louder. “Yeah. Wanted to get some self-reflection in. It's been a while since I've spent time by myself.”

Jake is silent for a bit, before he answers you again. “Have fun, then. When are you leaving?”

“Probably tomorrow,” the excited lilt returns to your voice. “Will you let the others know? It's pretty late, so I'm not sure that they'll pick up my calls.”

“Sure,” Jake replies, as if it was no second matter. “I will.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

The line is silent for a bit longer. “Take care.”

“Mhm, you too. Love you, Jake.”

He's quiet once again.

“What, you don't love me anymore?”

He scoffs at your playful jab. “Yeah, I don't. Not one bit—of course I love you too, you stupid bug. How long will you be gone for?”

“A while.”

“Short or long?”

“A bit long, I think.”

He pauses, and you hear the soft clink of a mug being set on the counter, as his girlfriend whispers to him that she's going to go set the movie up.

“… Have fun, bug. I've been a bit sick of seeing your face so much, too.”

You don't answer immediately.

The amused lilt of his voice makes you smile some more.

The wind picks up its speed, and a few rose petals scatter along with it.

“Yeah, don't worry about that,” you close your eyes, as the scent of roses grows stronger with each pass of the breeze.

Jake’s laughter echoes in your ears, the sound sweet as ever. Oh, how you truly did love Sim Jaeyun.

“I do plan on not coming back any time soon.”

The ink on the pages blurs from his tears, blotting the white sheet with splotches of running pink, glittering spots.

Jake holds the pendant in his hand, though with the way his fingers tremble, it threatens to slip out of his grasp, much in the same way his life had since today morning.

The sky had been somber, and the birds didn't chirp the same way they usually did, like they were grieving something they'd lost too.

Sunoo's letters had arrived that morning. Six of them. One for each of them. Labelled with their names and addresses in shaky handwriting, but still undeniably his. To Heeseung hyung. To Jay hyung. To Jake hyung. To Sunghoon hyung. To Jungwon. To Riki.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't even going to open his. The wound that Sunoo had left behind by leaving so abruptly still stung and festered, but Layla had fetched it from the table for him when he'd set it away.

And god, he would've regretted not reading it.

The letter itself had started simple.

Sunoo asked him about his life, about his girlfriend, about Layla. He talked about the sea by the place he was staying at, how the stars shone so brightly in the sky at night. He talked about the way the mint chocolate he'd get was so bland, he missed the ones from the grocery stores back here. Typical Sunoo.

Then he spoke about how sorry he was. And Sunoo seemed sorry for a lot of things.

He said sorry for missing their hangouts. For talking less and less to them. For not giving Butterscotch more kisses when he could. For missing Layla's birthday party. For not picking up his calls. For not picking up everyone else's calls. For not replying to their messages.

But he seemed really apologetic about one thing.

He said he was really, really sorry for not telling them about the illness.

The same one that had taken his final breaths today, with a severe heart failure. The hospital had called a few hours after. Said Sunoo passed in his sleep. That he was peaceful.

And the only thing Jake could think about after that call was you.

So he'd come over to your apartment as soon as he could, only to find it empty. The apartment itself was clean, with nothing out of place.

His phone rang with messages from the others, telling him that they'd be coming over soon, too.

For a moment, he thought about searching for you. Then, he remembered that you were out on a trip.

So he decided to call, because he knew you didn't read texts very quickly.

With his phone raised to his ear, the line was ringing, lying in wait for the other side to pick up, when he saw it.

An envelope, left behind on your vanity.

He tried his hardest to ignore it, but his curiosity won over anyways. So he walked right to it, and flipped it over. There was no address on it, and he was about to put it back down, when a familiar chain slipped out of the envelope.

He sets his phone down. The voicemail with your voice still rings out.

Jake's breath hitched at the sight. He carefully peeled away the glue, opening it up… and there it was. The pendant he gave you for your birthday.

The one you never took off.

The one with the two koi fishes you'd dubbed as him and Sunoo.

His eyes stung a little.

Your letter was written with a pink glitter pen. Much like Sunoo, you too talked about the sea and the flowers at the cliffside. About the way the birds came to chirp in the morning by your window, letting you know that they wanted you to feed them.

Then you talked about the illness. How the diagnosis had come two days before Butterscotch's passing. It was advanced cardiac cancer, the doctors had said. They'd do everything to help, but the chances of recovery would be low.

About how hard it was sometimes, to see Sunoo suffer under the weight of his own failing body. About how he wanted to move away to a different place for his treatment, so that his friends wouldn't have to see wither away, even if it meant that they'd hate him for it. About how you went over to him every weekend, just to see the way that the treatment procedures at the hospital seemed to sap his energy away day by day.

You wrote about Sunoo's letters, too.

About how you had to hold Sunoo's hand to support him as he wrote his six letters, and that he'd asked for his shaky handwriting to be excused for.

Then you apologised, too. About keeping it all a secret from him, from the others. That it was Sunoo's wish to be remembered as bright as he could be, and that there was no way you couldn't let the sun shine when it wanted to.

His vision grows blurrier, the letter grows harder to read.

You knew about it all.

Had known from the start.

The pendant slips from his fingers, clattering to the vanity table, as he reaches the end of the letter.

The sound of your voice ends, as the call hangs up.

Jake holds his head in his hands. His phone buzzes once more, lighting up with another call from the hospital. He stares at it for a bit longer, letting it ring.

Finally, with agonising slowness, he picks it up.

The person on the other end introduces himself as a doctor, and tells Jake that he's sorry for his loss. He thanks him quietly, and nods along.

The sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, as five sets of rushed footsteps head in the direction of your bedroom.

Riki bursts through first, his eyes red and face flushed. Jungwon and Sunghoon follow him after, as Heeseung wraps an arm around Jungwon to steady him.

The last one to meet his eyes is Jay.

The person on the line asks him to take care of his health, and to take his time to grieve. He agrees, and finally sets the phone back down.

“Why didn't he tell us?” Riki is the first one to break, sobbing into his hands. Sunghoon helps him sit down on your bed. Jungwon looks like he's going to throw up, and Jake feels like he will too. Still, he swallow the bile, and sits up straighter on the vanity stool.

Heeseung brings two glasses of water for the two youngest, trying to coax them into drinking some. Jay, his face strangely calm, turns to Jake. But he knows better—the hollowed look in Jay's eyes is something Jake understands entirely. “Was it the hospital that called you now?”

Jake nods, as Jungwon's sobs and Riki's wails grow louder. Sunghoon and Heeseung are tearing up too, despite the fact that they're still trying to comfort the other two. Only he and Jay are the ones who haven't cried yet.

“What did they say now?” Sunghoon asks, as Jay tries to calm Jungwon down. Jake answers quietly, that it was a check up call. But before he can say anything further, Heeseung cuts in.

“Where's she?”

Jake swallows softly. “Away.”

Heeseung nods. “Did she know?”

“Yes.” Jake's voice is calm as he answers. “But Sunoo asked her to keep it a secret.”

The older three frown at that, as the meaning of what you'd meant by “respecting” Sunoo's decision clicks into place.

“We were so wrong about both of them.” Jay mutters softly, his own eyes growing red.

“No.” Jake disagrees with that, as the last part of his conversation with the doctor echoes in his mind. “No, we weren't.”

“What do you mean?” Jungwon hiccups. Heeseung frowns, breathing heavily. “Now is not the time for cryptics, Jake.”

“I know,” Jake holds up your letter for them to see. “Remember how back in high school, we always used to joke about how she and Sunoo always searched for each other first?”

He points to the last line of your letter, and Jay sobs at the sight of it.

“We got one thing right.” Heeseung scoffs, wiping his tears. Sunghoon cries into Jay's shoulder, and Jake feels his own tears fall freely down his face. He smiles sadly, and it bleeds into a sob. “Yeah, we got one thing right.”

He picks up the pendant again, and clutches it to his chest.

Today, he'll grieve.

Tomorrow, he'll have two funerals to prepare for.

He looks back down at the letter, and smiles again.

Your handwriting is still there, etched into the paper like an epitaph to a headstone, only written in pink glitter, because he knows that it's the closest thing you had lying around.

Yeah, he really did get three things right. It was always a fucking Thursday with you and Sunoo, wasn't it? He spots the bouquet of white roses in the vase on the table next to your bed, the petals just beginning to brown at the edges. And those fucking white roses. The air freshner's scent of the sea wafts around the room. And the fucking sea. It was always those three with the two of you, wasn't it? A choked laugh bubbles out of him, as his eyes finally land on the little box displaying Butterscotch's faded pink collar.

[I love all of you. I especially love you a lot, my dearest childhood friend, Sim Jaeyun.]

The way the two of you are so in love sickens him so much.

[But I've already made my choice.]

Because no matter where either of you go….

[And both you and I know that there's nowhere else I'd be, other than his side.]

... or far apart the two of you are…

You'll always go back to Sunoo.

taglist: @kristynaaah @isa942572 @fataltrblr @yethoughts @hueningsgirl @graythecoffeebean @zoe1love @naiasayo

Jake noticed it, too. In fact, he noticed it almost often enough that he felt the need to tease you about it every time you sat down next to him for Mr Accetta's physics class on Thursday morning, his shoulder brushing yours as he grinned mischievously, eyes twinkling with mirth and great amusement behind the lenses of his glasses.

“You know,” he hums, doodling stars and what you assume to be a mangled “artistic” sketch of Layla, his dog, in the corners of his notebook with a very pink, glittering ink pen. “I kept count again, and I am pleased to inform you that I have got updated stats for the week.”

“Jake, don't start,” you groan, keeping your voice hushed so that old Mr Accetta doesn't catch the two of you talking in his class. The old Italian man was a great teacher and a bit of a gentle giant, but had little to no tolerance for whispered conversations during his lectures, a lesson you'd learnt the hard way during the first month of the freshman year of high school. “If Mr Accetta catches us, we're both going to be salami.”

“As if he'd say anything to me,” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses higher back up his nose. “I'm his favourite student. He'll automatically give you an excuse because it's me.”

“Narcissistic prick.” You kick his leg underneath the table, and he winces in pain. Shooting you a quick look of offense, he kicks your calf with the heel of his shoe in retaliation. “It's the truth,” he hisses through his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his leg. “If you want to be spared from his lectures, then get better at physics. At least that way I don't have to tutor you every weekend.”

“I do well enough in physics,” you counter, quieting as Mr Accetta passes by your row. Jake snorts under his breath, tapping his pen against his notes with a look that screams ‘Really? YOU?’ and you barely resist the urge to smack the sophomore. “That's because I tutor you,” he pushes your elbow off the desk, “and you should be grateful I do, because I certainly do not enjoy thirdwheeling you and Sunoo the entire time.”

Your ears burn hot at his words. You promptly ignore them, and level a light glare at Jake. “You don't have to tutor me when he's around, then.” He tuts, shaking his finger. “Where's the fun in that? I'll miss my dose of weekly entertainment watching you squirm under Sunoo's gaze the entire time, then.” He dodges your attempt at whacking his head. “Seriously, you're both so in love, it sickens me. It's like no matter where you go, or how far apart the two of you are, you'll always go back to him.”

“Do you find a particular joy in my suffering, Sim?” You grumble, scribbling in the ‘X’ for your turn in the fifth game of Noughts and Crosses that started fifteen minutes into the class. “You're absolutely correct,” Jake sketches in the ‘O’ for his turn, leaning back in his seat with a pleased hum as he draws a line to win the game, three in a row. “And by the way, you'd actually suffer much less if you took my advice to heart and confessed to him.”

“He doesn't like me that way,” you mutter, cheering softly under your breath as you get your second win with an ‘O’ scribbled into the center of the new grid. Jake looks at you like you're absolutely dumb for saying that out loud, his pen hovering over the paper. “He looks at you like you've descended from heaven very specifically for him. Anytime you're both around in the same room, the first people you look for are each other. Don't give me that bullshit, alright?”

Before you can answer him, Mr Accetta's loud voice booms through the classroom, pointed towards the two of you. “What's the formula to calculate the escape velocity for an object leaving earth, keeping in mind surface gravity?” Thankfully, Jake's mildly ruthless style of tutoring has prepared you for surprise questions, and the formula slips past your lips as quickly as it can. “Square root of 2gr.”

Mr Accetta gives you a pleased nod, questioning Jake next, who answers the question with a calm, casual, and languid ease, the kind that comes when you're extremely sure about what you're doing. It infuriates and amuses you at the same time, because there's something so special about your best friend that is so dearly, incredibly endearing, for a lack of better term.

Jake turns back to you, a smug grin on his face. “Guess you really did listen to my tutoring instead of staring longingly at Sunoo's face the entire time.” You promptly stomp his foot. He jerks his leg high enough to knock his knee into the desk, screaming silently at the pain. The rest of the class turns your way at the sound, but when they don't find anything worth their time and interest, they turn away.

Glaring at you, he wipes the tears forming at the corner of his eyes with one hand, the other still cradling his sore knee. Settling back into his seat, he flips you off, before returning his attention to Mr Accetta once more.

You smile at the sight, turning back to the board. Your notes are a mess, streaks of pink glitter from Jake's pen still dusting the edges of your pages. You'll steal his later, and while he'll complain and whine about it, his hand will still be the one holding the book out for you to take.

The tips of your ears still burn, and your pulse still thrums like the strings and chords of a well-loved guitar under your skin.

Of course, it always started with the small things.

Sunoo is the sun personified, you decide, on a Thursday afternoon.

But it's not just any Thursday afternoon. The sun warms the pavement with gentle rays, and the sky is so blue and the clouds so fluffy and white, you'd think it was a scene pulled from a Ghibli animation. The roar of the sea is quieter at this point of time, but the salty, humid air of a seaside summer still clings to your skin.

There are a few birds chirping, their calls as sweet as the scent of the hibiscus that lingers in the passing wind, joining the gentle sway of the bougainvillea vine that's ever-so-sneakily creeped over the railings of the outdoor balcony, as the humming and chattering in the background quieten to a soft hush.

Everything about this day is perfect.

And really, why wouldn't it be? Because sitting across from you is Kim Sunoo, blond hair shining like strands of gold against the dancing rays of sunlight that filter through tiny gaps in the restaurant's terracotta tiled roof.

He's resting his head on his hand, browsing through the menu. As if feeling the weight of your lingering stare, he raises his head and catches your gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle, almost disappearing, as his lips curve into the gentlest and softest of smiles. “Am I really that interesting?” He teases, but the hand that was holding the menu earlier is already making its way across the table, before it finds your own. “I doubt anything about me begs this great of a level of detailed attention. Most people aren't this attentive to me.”

His fingers thread with yours. Your pulse nearly stutters to a halt. Your ears burn with heat.

Still, you squeeze his hand.

“You're interesting to me.”

Sunoo blinks at that, as if he hadn't expected the answer. Perhaps he'd expected a joke, a deflection, or maybe even embarrassed avoidance—but not whatever… this was. A confession? An admission? Simply a statement? Or was it a fact? You're not sure what to call it yourself.

But something about your words—quietly spoken into the wind, with no hesitation behind them—must've clicked with him, because his expression softens some more, warmth seeping like dripping honey into the brown of his irises. His thumb rubs circles over the backs of your knuckles, before he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a gentle, reverent kiss against them.

The touch is fleeting—barely lasting a fraction of a second—but the featherlight press of his lips against your skin speaks to you more than a thousand words ever could. His eyes fall shut, even as he turns your hand over to kiss your palm, before finally leaving a last one on the inside of your wrist, this one lingering longer than the other two.

His hand still holds onto yours, the warmth of his body seeping through yours. Your skin still tingles in the places his lips had been to, but the shiver that trails down your spine is a pleasant one. When he opens his eyes once more, Sunoo smiles when he meets your own.

Your pulse quickens again.

But this time, it's because Sunoo's the one holding the guitar of your heart, thrumming the strings along to his whims, as he hums a melody of his own. You follow it without question, heartbeat spiking and dipping with the notes he's set in place for you.

Strangely, you don't mind it. If having him meant that you'd have to place your heart in his hands, you know that you'd do it without hesitation.

The reasoning behind it is simple.

Because this is the same young boy who cried over a fallen flower back when you were anything but tiny little kids all those years ago because he thought the plant would die. Because you know if you handed it to him, he'd cradle it with the greatest of care.

Because it's Sunoo.

And that's enough for you.

The chill of the swimming pool shocks you to your bones.

When you surface back up, clothes and hair clinging tightly to your skin, the perpetrators behind the “crime” of pushing you into the water grin down at you, blocking the sun from you with their shadows.

Jake and Sunoo sport matching, mischievous grins—the kind that tell you that they didn't have an ounce of regret about what they've just done. It's also the kind of grin that just makes you want to get back at them, because the way they look is so endearingly annoying.

Like a pair of cats who got the cream and licked it clean with zero remorse.

The corners of your mouth twitch upward.

Sunoo is the one who spots it first, because of course he's the one who notices everything about you first. Jake sees it a second later, but it's still a second far too late, because you're already leaping over the coping, water dripping onto the concrete as you grab both of them by their ankles and drag them in with a loud splash.

When you surface again, Sunoo and Jake are on either side of you, staring back at you with equal, identical looks of offense, like they couldn't believe what you'd just done. You hold their gazes for a moment longer, wet hair plastered to your forehead, the water rippling gently around the three of you.

Then, Sunoo laughs.

It's not one of those loud, full-bellied laughs, but it is one of those tiny, hushed ones that only come out when the two of you are up at 3 AM, trying not to laugh too hard at the videos you're watching because one of you couldn't fall asleep, the laughter being more snickers than giggles because you don't want to disturb the neighbours.

Jake joins in right after, his shoulders shaking as he giggles, leaning against the pool’s wall for support. Your own chuckles meld into the harmony of theirs, slipping in like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Sunoo swims over to you, his sleek figure cutting through the water in clean waves, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body. “Had your fun, huh?” He tries his hardest to pretend to be annoyed, even frowning a little, but his eyes—oh, those pretty brown eyes—immediately give him away.

Not because they're crinkling at the corners the way they do when he smiles.

No, it's because of something else entirely.

It's because they look at you with such fondness it hurts.

Like you're the only thing he sees, in between the chaos of the pool party at Jay's. Over Riki's screaming and shrieking, over the sound of Sunghoon and Jay calling for him to be careful, over Heeseung's loud yells of glee as he sprays Jungwon and Riki with a water gun while Jake eggs him on.

He looks at you like you're his past, present, and his future—and he seems so sure of it all, that it leaves you breathless. The world slows down to a stop, the sun aligning just enough to create a little halo behind his head, the blond strands shining so beautifully—and the noise around you quietens to only the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, the air in your lungs still having trouble on the way out, smiling at him. “What are you going to do about it, hm?”

He mirrors your expression, his grin slowly widening as he takes you in. “Nothing much,” he hums, a hand coming up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “Just a little punishment, nothing else.”

“And,” you lick your lips just a little, and his eyes follow the small movement for the slightest of seconds, before they flicker back to yours, “what might this little… punishment be?”

Your eyes never leave his, and neither do his break away from you.

“Just this,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, as both his hands come to cradle your face properly, “and nothing else.”

Then, his lips are on yours, as he pours in everything he feels into the kiss.

His hands are still cold from the pool, but they slowly warm up as the heat from your skin seeps into his own. His thumb rubs circles on the apple of your cheek, while his other one tangles itself into your hair as he deepens the kiss. A sweet, syrupy sort of warmth spreads through your veins, and you welcome it wholeheartedly.

It burns and sizzles through the traces of everything else, until there's nothing else left in this world but the two of you.

At least until Jungwon interrupts.

“Oi, lovebirds!” He giggles, and now having wrestled the water gun away from Heeseung, he turns it on the two of you. “Get a room, or get soaked!”

Sunoo breaks away with a small scream from the coldness of the water, but his arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist, even as he playfully glares at the younger boy. “Oh, Yang Jungwon, you're so dead.”

Jungwon runs around the poolside deck as Sunoo finally lets go of you to chase after him, their feet leaving wet footprints all over the wood. Riki and Sunghoon swoop in to “help,” while Heeseung, Jay, and Jake cheer them on from where they lounge in the sun.

The laugh that bubbles out of you this time is loud and free and everything that you feel, watching all the people you cherish and love be so happy without a care. Sunoo's blond hair whips with the wind as he runs around, and your chest warms at the sight.

Yeah, there's no question about it.

You're absolutely, incorrigibly, undeniably in love with Kim Sunoo.

Jake's fingers are warm, as they brush against your nape.

Sunoo watches from nearby, with his arms crossed over his chest and a little quirk of his lips, as he leans against the old mahogany dresser in your bedroom.

“It looks good,” he finally speaks, strolling over to let his fingers brush against the smooth metal of the pendant resting on your collarbones, just as Jake steps away to sit on your bed instead. “You know my girlfriend so well, Sim.”

“Of course I do,” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “I've known this brat since she was but a snotty-nosed little toddler.”

You cuddle into Sunoo's side, and he presses a quick kiss to your temple, even as you stretch your leg to half-heartedly kick Jake on the shin. “I was not a snotty-nosed toddler. Are you really sure that your memory isn't failing you as we get older?”

“Oh, we're really going there now?” Jake scoffs in playful offense. “You want me to pull out the photographic evidence?” He threatens, hands already reaching for his pocket. “Your baby pictures are enough to prove my claim.”

“Why do you even have my baby pictures, you muppet?” You question, arm resting around Sunoo's waist. “Because your mum sends them to me.” He snorts, unlocking his phone.

“What?” Your offended shriek echoes around the four corners of the room. “Why is my mum sending my baby pictures to you of all people?!”

“Because she loves me,” Jake shrugs like it's only natural fact that your mother absolutely adores him (and it is, really, considering how long your family has known the Sims for), “perhaps even more than you.”

“OI!”

He laughs harder at your expression, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

“If it helps,” Sunoo quips dryly, brushing a few strands out of your face. “Your mother sends them to me regularly as well.”

“It does not help!” You shriek, betrayed at the thought of your mother sending both your boyfriend and best friend embarrassing childhood pictures of yours.

“Well,” Sunoo shrugs casually, “at least I can say that I tried. Also, you were really cute as a kid.”

“As a kid,” Jake emphasises, pointing a pillow at you, “now she's just an obnoxious gremlin who likes to disturb my peace as soon as she gets a day off from her job.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, raising a brow in jest. “That I can't deny,” he hums, his fingers brushing along your arm. “But I must confess that I greatly enjoy the fact that she always wants to spend time together.”

You roll your eyes, but still kiss his cheek. Jake pretends to gag at the sight, clutching his chest. “Ugh, get a room! Leave! Shoo!”

You throw his empty can of Monster Ultra resting on your vanity at his head.

“You're in my room, you donkey! If anyone should be leaving, it's you!”

“Ugh, she's kicking me out already!” Jake's half-running, half-giggling as he makes his way out of your bedroom, before turning back to face both Sunoo and you in the doorway. “Thanks for keeping her out of my hands, Kim! See you!" he sings out, waving at your boyfriend.

Then he's off, slamming the door shut behind him just as you throw a pillow in his direction.

Sunoo laughs, his other arm wrapping around you as well to trap you in his embrace, his chest warm against your back even through the fabric of your shirt. “Well, he's not wrong. I'm more than happy to keep you to myself.”

Your hands come to rest on top of his, as the two of you sway in your bedroom to an invisible melody. “Good thing I wanna stay with you, then?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours in the mirror of your vanity. “Saves me the hassle of convincing you to stay.”

“Lucky you.” Your reflection sports a wide smile, the two little koi fishes (the one you'd taken to nicknaming as Sunoo and Jake in your head) on your pendant glinting in the evening sunrays.

“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your neck affectionately. “Lucky me, indeed.”

Lucky you, indeed. Ordinary days aren't so bad if they're spent with him.

Butterscotch seems to like cuddling Sunoo far more than you these days.

You stare at the cat sitting in your boyfriend's lap, curled up into a mangled little croissant of a ginger cat over his thighs, purring so loud that you can feel it in your bones.

“Butter,” you poke his little whiskered cheek, as Sunoo huffs in amusement at the sight. “You've always been a mama's boy. Why are you sticking to the spare human all of a sudden?”

That draws a snort from Sunoo, his hand reaching out to smooth over the few tufts of unruly fur sticking out from Butterscotch's fluffy coat. “Is that what I'm relegated to now? Not even ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’?”

You stick your tongue out at him, poking Sunoo's cheek. “Yes, you're the spare human right now, because Butterscotch hasn't cuddled with me for three days straight. He's even begun to sleep on your side of the bed!”

“Good,” he pinches your cheek in retaliation, a smug smile on his face. “At least now you'll understand what it feels like to be given only an inch of space on the bed because my girlfriend and my son are too busy cuddling with each other.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “We do not take up that much space on the bed.”

Sunoo scoffs, though the sound is more amused than sarcastic. “I'm always half a turn away from toppling to the floor.”

“You'll be fine. The floors are warm.”

“So is the bed.”

“You can survive one night on the flooring.”

“I could, but only if you don't hog all the blankets at night.”

“I do not hog the blankets!” You definitely do, and you're well aware of that fact.

“Sure, you don't. And Butterscotch doesn't scream at us for breakfast at exactly 5:50 AM on the dot.”

“Sunoo!”

“You don't have to say my name so many times, you know? You did enough of that last night.”

You punch his arm.

He laughs harder.

But so do you.

“Butter, come back to mama,” you try to coax the little orange menace into your arms, but he stubbornly remains splayed on your boyfriend, even affectionately headbutting Sunoo's chin in response to your calls.

Sunoo snickers, leaning down to let Butterscotch brush against his head, a hand coming up to support the cat. “You're asking a senior citizen to listen to you. That is foolish, no?”

“He may be fourteen, but he has perfectly functional ears,” you huff. Sunoo kisses the top of Butterscotch's head. “Yeah, perfectly functional ears that he is using at the moment to ignore you.”

You pout, and Butterscotch finally relents his onslaught of affection on Sunoo, and turns to you for a little kitty kiss that you gratefully accept. “There's my boy.”

You scratch under his chin and the orange cat purrs happily, but his tail still reaches out to wrap around Sunoo's arm. “Do you want me to be closer, Butter?”

Butterscotch only meows once at him, and Sunoo moves close enough that there's no space remaining between the two of you, his thigh brushing against yours as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. “Is that better, cutie?”

Satisfied with the proximity that's been created, Butterscotch’s purring grows louder and he settles between you and Sunoo, an equal half splayed across the both of your laps.

“Guess we've got to abandon the rest of the day, then,” Sunoo murmurs, a finger brushing over Butterscotch's closed eyes. “His Highness wants to cuddle with us.”

The trees sway with the wind, steadily growing obscured to the vision as fog takes over. The low rumble of thunder rolls outside, before the spitter-patter of raindrops against window panes slowly grows louder.

The apartment is warm, and the coffee machine buzzes with a low hum, still trying to make Sunoo's coffee for the past half an hour. You'll have to call the company and ask for a replacement.

But that can come later.

For now, you lay your head on Sunoo's shoulder. He rests his on top of yours. Butterscotch is now asleep in your laps, dreaming of things only kitties do.

It always is the little things that matter.

Jake shows up first, a bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand.

“Hey,” you smile at him. “You brought Butterscotch's favourite flowers.”

He mirrors the expression, though it's more somber and subdued than usual. “Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Needed to make sure that the little guy could smell his favourite scents. He adores them so much, after all.”

You move to the side to welcome him into the apartment, and he walks in, his footsteps soft and careful, as if afraid to disturb the quiet that had settled over your home.

Heeseung and Jungwon arrive second, carrying an old, worn out toy each. They nod in acknowledgement, light footsteps making their way into the living room. You don't follow, opting to pace by the doorway instead.

Riki, Jay, and Sunghoon show up not more than twenty minutes after, Riki's hands tightly clutched around a brand new pack of tuna treats, while there's a baby blanket slung over Sunghoon's arm. The oldest of the three hugs you tightly, his hands warm against your back.

You lean into Jay, taking in the quiet feelings that bleed through his touch.

The clock echoes twice, signalling the arrival of the second hour of the afternoon.

You finally join them to reunite with the others in the living room, where they're circled around Sunoo on the floor. He leans his head against the sofa, eyes closed as if weighed by the dark shadows under them. Exhaling softly, he huffs out a tired breath when his eyes meet yours.

You take the time to take him in.

His blond hair, so vibrant before, is a bit more dull now. He's paler from the lack of sleep, but you suppose that you don't quite fare much better than him anyways. He gives you an exhausted smile, and pats the little space next to him.

Your eyes trail down to his lap, where Butterscotch lays on a giant, fluffy pillow. Jake brings over the vase of flowers, setting it down onto the wooden floors with a soft ‘Clink!’ that rings out in the apartment far louder than it should. Butterscotch lifts his head, nose twitching as he catches the faint wisp of the flowers’ scent.

Jay holds them closer for him. The feline takes a deep whiff, then lays his head back down. Riki extends his hand to feed him his sixth treat of the hour. Butterscotch eats it anyway.

The clock in the hallway chimes again. 2:30 PM.

You make your way over to them, cuddling into Sunoo's side. He leans his head on your shoulder, hair tickling your skin, but you don't move away. His eyes remain on Butterscotch the entire time.

Sunghoon drapes the baby blanket over him, tucking the corners under the cat, so that he's bundled up in the way he loves to be held. Jungwon and Heeseung wave the toys around, and Butterscotch bats at them exactly twice. They still smile at the sight.

The clock chimes thrice. 3:00 PM.

The bell rings. Nobody moves.

Then Jay gets to his feet, shuffling over to the door. The young woman you've gotten acquainted with over the past two years as Butterscotch's vet walks in, her nose and eyes red. She says it's from the cold on the way over to the apartment.

You don't point out that it's still June.

Jungwon and Riki move to make space for her. She kneels on the floor, leaning her head down to brush her forehead against Butterscotch's head. “Hi, Butterscotch,” her voice is soft, and the feline makes a low noise in his throat, one that you can only consider to be an acknowledgement. “It's Anya. You remember me? You purred so much I couldn't hear your heartbeat the last time I saw you.”

Butterscotch's slow purring starts again, and Sunoo runs his fingers through his fur.

Nobody comments on how laboured it is.

Riki silently hands her the bag of treats. She feeds Butterscotch three instead of her usual two. Then she smoothes his fur over, pressing a kiss to his head.

Sunghoon and Jungwon gently ink both his front paws. Jake carefully presses them onto the paper, leaving behind inked impressions of his paws and toe beans.

You wipe them clean, scratching under his chin.

The rest of the entire process is quick and efficient. Anya doesn't say a word the entire time. Neither do you.

Butterscotch twitches twice, and your hand instinctively reaches out to lay on his side.

The breath you've held the entire time finally seeps out of your lungs.

Sunoo lifts the pillow, and places a kiss onto Butterscotch's head, between his ears.

Anya pulls the stethoscope away, and nods her head.

You give her a watery smile. When she leaves, a heavy silence settles over the room. There's no one speaking. No one breathes out loud.

Then, you lean down to kiss the little orange menace.

Butterscotch doesn't lift his head this time.

Six pairs of arms wrap around you, as Butterscotch lays splayed across Sunoo's and your lap. This time, he remains still.

This time, the bell on his collar doesn't jingle softly as his head rests on Sunoo's palm.

The sound of the door to your bedroom slamming open is incredibly loud and jarring.

It brings you out of your daze, and when you look up from your feet, you find a fuming Jake standing in the doorway.

His breaths are heavy and laboured, as if he'd run all the way to you. Sweat drips down his temple, dropping to his white tee. His glasses are askew, his hair is all over the place, as if the wind had mussed it up, and his flannel is disheveled, one side falling off of his shoulder, while his socks are mismatched, one navy blue and one white.

He meets your eyes, and the fury in his own grows tenfold.

“What the fuck is he doing?” He hisses, storming over to you. You flinch at the volume, and he notices, softening his voice a little, although it does nothing to hide how angry he is. “Why did Jungwon call this morning to tell me that you and Sunoo broke up because he wanted “something more”? Did I seriously hear him right?”

You don't answer him.

Actually, it's more like you don't know how to.

So you keep quiet.

“No fucking way,” Jake breathes out, dropping to his knees next to where you're sat on your bed. “Did he just wake up and leave?”

“Jake.” Your voice is soft, and Jake's heart breaks at how small you sound. “It's not what you think it is.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I think I know what this is,” he snarls, scowling as he fists the sheets in rage and sadness. “I told you, he was acting so fucking weird since the time Butterscotch passed. At first, I tried to pass it off as just grief and that he was in mourning, and that I shouldn't say anything because different people grieve in different ways, but then he pulled away from all of us.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Jake doesn't let you, continuing his heated rant.

“It's been a year since then! It was okay when he started getting distant and pulling away. First, he wouldn't come around often, telling us he was ‘tired’ and ‘exhausted.’ Then he started speaking less and less to us. After that, he wouldn't even pick up our calls or read our messages, like he thought himself too good for us, but seriously?! He left you behind for something “better”?! What else or who else could he find that's better than you?!”

“Jake.”

He doesn't listen, continuing to ramble, his hands spinning and twisting in the air like a physical extension of his anger.

“Jake.” You try again.

He still doesn't hear you, his ranting growing louder and louder and louder till your head begins to throb from how much you've been crying all day.

“Jake!”

He stops still at the way you scream his name, and turns to face you properly for the first time since he arrived at your apartment. “Oh,” he breathes out, his own lip quivering at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes, and the way they're puffed from the way you've been sobbing since the morning when Sunoo finally left. “I'm so sorry, bug. I really am so sorry.”

His hands wrap around you in an embrace, but you don't return it.

He holds you for a bit longer, before finally letting go, as he looks up into your eyes. “Talk to me, bug. Tell me what's on your mind.”

You lick your chapped lips, before sighing softly.

“Sunoo's gone, Jake.”

“No, he's not. I'll bring him back, and he's going to apologise to you, and then the rest of us.”

“Jake.”

“I refuse to believe he just up and went.”

“Jake.”

“Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he really think I'll just let him walk away like that, after taking so much from you? Selfish fucking bastard.”

“Jake.”

“I'm sorry I ever considered him a friend.”

“Jake!”

“What?” He glares up at you, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, both at grief for himself and for you.

“Sunoo made his decision himself. We need to respect that.”

Jake looks like he's bitten something that's bitter and sour at the same time. But he doesn't speak anymore, because the finality in your words tell him that you've already accepted this fate.

“Right. Right,” he nods. “Respect the guy who couldn't even leave us with a respectable goodbye.”

“Jake.” Your voice breaks, but it doesn't stop him from standing up. He removes his glasses to wipe away his tears, and turns to you, his face completely blank, with any and all traces of rage and sadness erased from it.

“I'll order in some dinner for you. Have that, and go to sleep early. You've got a shift in the morning tomorrow. Or take the day off. I don't really care.”

You sigh softly.

“I…” He pauses, then nods his head again. “I'm going home. Layla's been very anxious as of late.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Take care.”

“… You too.”

Then he's off once more, the sound of the door falling shut behind him echoing far too loud in your ears.

You cry some more into Sunoo's hoodie, still bearing his scent from when he'd worn it a week ago.

At least the silver lining here is that your boss likes you quite a bit.

The city truly comes alive at night.

It's been three months since Sunoo left.

Everyone else—Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, Riki—came after Jake left your apartment that Thursday. They asked the same questions that he did. “Why did Sunoo leave like that, so abruptly?”

You still told them the same thing you told Jake.

“Please respect that it was Sunoo's decision to leave.”

They seemed put off by that answer. Their expressions screamed that they wanted an answer beyond that simple, final sentence, but you didn't quite have the words nor the energy to explain everything to them.

Riki and Jungwon seemed the most affected by your easy acceptance of Sunoo's departure. They'd been the closest to him after Jake, and to see you simply tell them to leave the matter alone by framing it as Sunoo's decision, must've really hurt them. Probably hurt quite a bit too, considering the frequency of their visits to your home had slowly begun to dwindle.

First it had been the youngest two.

Then it had been Heeseung and Sunghoon. Work kept them busy, but even then, you could see through the gaps where they had begun to form.

The last one had been Jay. He'd been over one night, aware of how everyone had begun to drift away. He said nothing, but the forlorn expression on his face as he left told you enough.

Only Jake came over as often as he used to. But even his visits were shorter, dropping by to check up on you, before he left. Layla had been steadily growing more anxious over the last few months, and he'd also got himself a girlfriend.

You'd met her once, when Jake invited you out to eat, after you'd spent one too many weekends staying at home. She was pretty, but she was also sweet and kind—the kind that was perfect for Jake.

You smile at the thought of her. At least Jake has someone to take care of him now.

The air seemed especially cold tonight, and you pull your scarf closer to yourself. The early September chill had begun to seep in, just as warmer jackets and scarves had begun to make their yearly reappearances once more.

The street buzzes around you, lamp posts diffusing golden light over the pathways. Golden, you pause under one, looking up at the sky where a single, lonely star twinkles by itself. Just like him and his hair.

Everything about tonight seemed to be connected to Sunoo.

You pass by the fourth corner of the seventh street, where stands a giant billboard with an advertisement for his favourite brand of soda.

Then comes the park, with a couple laughing and spending time with each other in the swings. 1 AM. Two cans of vanilla flavoured soda resting against the metal poles of the swings.

You continue to walk.

The animal shelter by the lakefront appears. It's still operating, low hums of the generator melding with the soft meows and yips of its residents, cut by the gentle human voices that speak to them. Pink carrier. He'd been the one to pick it out. A very grumpy, old, and annoyed orange cat meowing—actually, howling—in your backseat the entire time you drove back to your apartment.

You flit past the entrance.

The grocery store at the second avenue. The neon signs have been replaced by something that's easier to read. LEDs, perhaps. You're not sure. Midnight grocery runs. You were never really sure about whether you wanted the strawberry chews or the lemon ones, so he'd put both in, sneaking in a bag of mint chocolate too. You always looked away at the cashier's counter.

Your feet remain in continuous motion.

The café on the third exit of the roundabout. The decor is finally more tasteful now, the horrendously large lights replaced in favour of softer, warmer lanterns. He always said that his eyes hurt, even when he sat in the booth farthest from the lights. Still, he came back—and forced you to come with him—every time because he adored their brownies.

The barista flips the sign to ‘CLOSED’ just as you walk past the door.

The florist tucked away in the third alley. You've never really been here. It's just on the way during an easier shortcut on the way back home. They usually display their flowers in the windowfront. Sunflowers, daisies, orchids, dahlias. Tonight, it's roses.

More specifically, white roses.

Your feet come to a halt by the storefront.

Your reflection stares back at you. He'd tucked the delicate bouquet of white roses into your lap the moment you got into his car. “It's a Thursday, and what kind of person even brings white roses to a first date?” He'd smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. “The kind that takes his date to a restaurant by the sea for a first date.” You smiled back.

The florist peeks her head out of the door, tapping your shoulder. You blink, turning to look at her. She's probably not older than nineteen, that youthful flush still colouring her skin. She gives you a shy smile, pointing to the flowers. “Would you like a few?”

You stare at her for a few minutes.

Then, you smile. “Sure. Make it pretty, please.”

She gives you a pleased smile, and ushers you inside from the cold.

Looking at her deft fingers carefully arrange the bouquet to your liking, your chest warms, the metal of the little pendant with the koi fish warming with your skin. You pay and thank her, heading back outside, the scent of roses clinging to your skin now.

The air is colder, and your scarf comes loose by just a bit. The streetlamps still shine golden. You look up at the sky, which has grown cloudier now.

But now, a second star shines besides the first one. Its glow is dimmer than its counterpart, more silver than gold, but it still shines through the clouds.

You smile at the sight, clutching the bouquet closer.

Yes, Sunoo had made his decision.

It was now time to make yours.

The phone in your palm rings once, twice, thrice.

“Hello?” Jake picks up on the fourth ring. Layla's excited yips mix with the soft coos of his girlfriend in the background.

Your smile grows wider at the sound.

“Hey,” you greet. “Where are you?”

“At home, why?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Layla's finally a bit calmer now, so my girlfriend and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a date night.”

“That's good. Enjoy your time. Tell her that I said hi.” You hum softly.

“I will,” his voice is soft. “But did you need something? Why'd you call?”

“Oh, it's nothing much. Just wanted to tell you that I was going on a trip.”

“A trip? Now?” You hum louder. “Yeah. Wanted to get some self-reflection in. It's been a while since I've spent time by myself.”

Jake is silent for a bit, before he answers you again. “Have fun, then. When are you leaving?”

“Probably tomorrow,” the excited lilt returns to your voice. “Will you let the others know? It's pretty late, so I'm not sure that they'll pick up my calls.”

“Sure,” Jake replies, as if it was no second matter. “I will.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

The line is silent for a bit longer. “Take care.”

“Mhm, you too. Love you, Jake.”

He's quiet once again.

“What, you don't love me anymore?”

He scoffs at your playful jab. “Yeah, I don't. Not one bit—of course I love you too, you stupid bug. How long will you be gone for?”

“A while.”

“Short or long?”

“A bit long, I think.”

He pauses, and you hear the soft clink of a mug being set on the counter, as his girlfriend whispers to him that she's going to go set the movie up.

“… Have fun, bug. I've been a bit sick of seeing your face so much, too.”

You don't answer immediately.

The amused lilt of his voice makes you smile some more.

The wind picks up its speed, and a few rose petals scatter along with it.

“Yeah, don't worry about that,” you close your eyes, as the scent of roses grows stronger with each pass of the breeze.

Jake’s laughter echoes in your ears, the sound sweet as ever. Oh, how you truly did love Sim Jaeyun.

“I do plan on not coming back any time soon.”

The ink on the pages blurs from his tears, blotting the white sheet with splotches of running pink, glittering spots.

Jake holds the pendant in his hand, though with the way his fingers tremble, it threatens to slip out of his grasp, much in the same way his life had since today morning.

The sky had been somber, and the birds didn't chirp the same way they usually did, like they were grieving something they'd lost too.

Sunoo's letters had arrived that morning. Six of them. One for each of them. Labelled with their names and addresses in shaky handwriting, but still undeniably his. To Heeseung hyung. To Jay hyung. To Jake hyung. To Sunghoon hyung. To Jungwon. To Riki.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't even going to open his. The wound that Sunoo had left behind by leaving so abruptly still stung and festered, but Layla had fetched it from the table for him when he'd set it away.

And god, he would've regretted not reading it.

The letter itself had started simple.

Sunoo asked him about his life, about his girlfriend, about Layla. He talked about the sea by the place he was staying at, how the stars shone so brightly in the sky at night. He talked about the way the mint chocolate he'd get was so bland, he missed the ones from the grocery stores back here. Typical Sunoo.

Then he spoke about how sorry he was. And Sunoo seemed sorry for a lot of things.

He said sorry for missing their hangouts. For talking less and less to them. For not giving Butterscotch more kisses when he could. For missing Layla's birthday party. For not picking up his calls. For not picking up everyone else's calls. For not replying to their messages.

But he seemed really apologetic about one thing.

He said he was really, really sorry for not telling them about the illness.

The same one that had taken his final breaths today, with a severe heart failure. The hospital had called a few hours after. Said Sunoo passed in his sleep. That he was peaceful.

And the only thing Jake could think about after that call was you.

So he'd come over to your apartment as soon as he could, only to find it empty. The apartment itself was clean, with nothing out of place.

His phone rang with messages from the others, telling him that they'd be coming over soon, too.

For a moment, he thought about searching for you. Then, he remembered that you were out on a trip.

So he decided to call, because he knew you didn't read texts very quickly.

With his phone raised to his ear, the line was ringing, lying in wait for the other side to pick up, when he saw it.

An envelope, left behind on your vanity.

He tried his hardest to ignore it, but his curiosity won over anyways. So he walked right to it, and flipped it over. There was no address on it, and he was about to put it back down, when a familiar chain slipped out of the envelope.

He sets his phone down. The voicemail with your voice still rings out.

Jake's breath hitched at the sight. He carefully peeled away the glue, opening it up… and there it was. The pendant he gave you for your birthday.

The one you never took off.

The one with the two koi fishes you'd dubbed as him and Sunoo.

His eyes stung a little.

Your letter was written with a pink glitter pen. Much like Sunoo, you too talked about the sea and the flowers at the cliffside. About the way the birds came to chirp in the morning by your window, letting you know that they wanted you to feed them.

Then you talked about the illness. How the diagnosis had come two days before Butterscotch's passing. It was advanced cardiac cancer, the doctors had said. They'd do everything to help, but the chances of recovery would be low.

About how hard it was sometimes, to see Sunoo suffer under the weight of his own failing body. About how he wanted to move away to a different place for his treatment, so that his friends wouldn't have to see wither away, even if it meant that they'd hate him for it. About how you went over to him every weekend, just to see the way that the treatment procedures at the hospital seemed to sap his energy away day by day.

You wrote about Sunoo's letters, too.

About how you had to hold Sunoo's hand to support him as he wrote his six letters, and that he'd asked for his shaky handwriting to be excused for.

Then you apologised, too. About keeping it all a secret from him, from the others. That it was Sunoo's wish to be remembered as bright as he could be, and that there was no way you couldn't let the sun shine when it wanted to.

His vision grows blurrier, the letter grows harder to read.

You knew about it all.

Had known from the start.

The pendant slips from his fingers, clattering to the vanity table, as he reaches the end of the letter.

The sound of your voice ends, as the call hangs up.

Jake holds his head in his hands. His phone buzzes once more, lighting up with another call from the hospital. He stares at it for a bit longer, letting it ring.

Finally, with agonising slowness, he picks it up.

The person on the other end introduces himself as a doctor, and tells Jake that he's sorry for his loss. He thanks him quietly, and nods along.

The sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, as five sets of rushed footsteps head in the direction of your bedroom.

Riki bursts through first, his eyes red and face flushed. Jungwon and Sunghoon follow him after, as Heeseung wraps an arm around Jungwon to steady him.

The last one to meet his eyes is Jay.

The person on the line asks him to take care of his health, and to take his time to grieve. He agrees, and finally sets the phone back down.

“Why didn't he tell us?” Riki is the first one to break, sobbing into his hands. Sunghoon helps him sit down on your bed. Jungwon looks like he's going to throw up, and Jake feels like he will too. Still, he swallow the bile, and sits up straighter on the vanity stool.

Heeseung brings two glasses of water for the two youngest, trying to coax them into drinking some. Jay, his face strangely calm, turns to Jake. But he knows better—the hollowed look in Jay's eyes is something Jake understands entirely. “Was it the hospital that called you now?”

Jake nods, as Jungwon's sobs and Riki's wails grow louder. Sunghoon and Heeseung are tearing up too, despite the fact that they're still trying to comfort the other two. Only he and Jay are the ones who haven't cried yet.

“What did they say now?” Sunghoon asks, as Jay tries to calm Jungwon down. Jake answers quietly, that it was a check up call. But before he can say anything further, Heeseung cuts in.

“Where's she?”

Jake swallows softly. “Away.”

Heeseung nods. “Did she know?”

“Yes.” Jake's voice is calm as he answers. “But Sunoo asked her to keep it a secret.”

The older three frown at that, as the meaning of what you'd meant by “respecting” Sunoo's decision clicks into place.

“We were so wrong about both of them.” Jay mutters softly, his own eyes growing red.

“No.” Jake disagrees with that, as the last part of his conversation with the doctor echoes in his mind. “No, we weren't.”

“What do you mean?” Jungwon hiccups. Heeseung frowns, breathing heavily. “Now is not the time for cryptics, Jake.”

“I know,” Jake holds up your letter for them to see. “Remember how back in high school, we always used to joke about how she and Sunoo always searched for each other first?”

He points to the last line of your letter, and Jay sobs at the sight of it.

“We got one thing right.” Heeseung scoffs, wiping his tears. Sunghoon cries into Jay's shoulder, and Jake feels his own tears fall freely down his face. He smiles sadly, and it bleeds into a sob. “Yeah, we got one thing right.”

He picks up the pendant again, and clutches it to his chest.

Today, he'll grieve.

Tomorrow, he'll have two funerals to prepare for.

He looks back down at the letter, and smiles again.

Your handwriting is still there, etched into the paper like an epitaph to a headstone, only written in pink glitter, because he knows that it's the closest thing you had lying around.

Yeah, he really did get three things right. It was always a fucking Thursday with you and Sunoo, wasn't it? He spots the bouquet of white roses in the vase on the table next to your bed, the petals just beginning to brown at the edges. And those fucking white roses. The air freshner's scent of the sea wafts around the room. And the fucking sea. It was always those three with the two of you, wasn't it? A choked laugh bubbles out of him, as his eyes finally land on the little box displaying Butterscotch's faded pink collar.

[I love all of you. I especially love you a lot, my dearest childhood friend, Sim Jaeyun.]

The way the two of you are so in love sickens him so much.

[But I've already made my choice.]

Because no matter where either of you go….

[And both you and I know that there's nowhere else I'd be, other than his side.]

... or far apart the two of you are…

You'll always go back to Sunoo.

taglist: @kristynaaah @isa942572 @fataltrblr @yethoughts @hueningsgirl @graythecoffeebean @zoe1love @naiasayo

Jake noticed it, too. In fact, he noticed it almost often enough that he felt the need to tease you about it every time you sat down next to him for Mr Accetta's physics class on Thursday morning, his shoulder brushing yours as he grinned mischievously, eyes twinkling with mirth and great amusement behind the lenses of his glasses.

“You know,” he hums, doodling stars and what you assume to be a mangled “artistic” sketch of Layla, his dog, in the corners of his notebook with a very pink, glittering ink pen. “I kept count again, and I am pleased to inform you that I have got updated stats for the week.”

“Jake, don't start,” you groan, keeping your voice hushed so that old Mr Accetta doesn't catch the two of you talking in his class. The old Italian man was a great teacher and a bit of a gentle giant, but had little to no tolerance for whispered conversations during his lectures, a lesson you'd learnt the hard way during the first month of the freshman year of high school. “If Mr Accetta catches us, we're both going to be salami.”

“As if he'd say anything to me,” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses higher back up his nose. “I'm his favourite student. He'll automatically give you an excuse because it's me.”

“Narcissistic prick.” You kick his leg underneath the table, and he winces in pain. Shooting you a quick look of offense, he kicks your calf with the heel of his shoe in retaliation. “It's the truth,” he hisses through his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his leg. “If you want to be spared from his lectures, then get better at physics. At least that way I don't have to tutor you every weekend.”

“I do well enough in physics,” you counter, quieting as Mr Accetta passes by your row. Jake snorts under his breath, tapping his pen against his notes with a look that screams ‘Really? YOU?’ and you barely resist the urge to smack the sophomore. “That's because I tutor you,” he pushes your elbow off the desk, “and you should be grateful I do, because I certainly do not enjoy thirdwheeling you and Sunoo the entire time.”

Your ears burn hot at his words. You promptly ignore them, and level a light glare at Jake. “You don't have to tutor me when he's around, then.” He tuts, shaking his finger. “Where's the fun in that? I'll miss my dose of weekly entertainment watching you squirm under Sunoo's gaze the entire time, then.” He dodges your attempt at whacking his head. “Seriously, you're both so in love, it sickens me. It's like no matter where you go, or how far apart the two of you are, you'll always go back to him.”

“Do you find a particular joy in my suffering, Sim?” You grumble, scribbling in the ‘X’ for your turn in the fifth game of Noughts and Crosses that started fifteen minutes into the class. “You're absolutely correct,” Jake sketches in the ‘O’ for his turn, leaning back in his seat with a pleased hum as he draws a line to win the game, three in a row. “And by the way, you'd actually suffer much less if you took my advice to heart and confessed to him.”

“He doesn't like me that way,” you mutter, cheering softly under your breath as you get your second win with an ‘O’ scribbled into the center of the new grid. Jake looks at you like you're absolutely dumb for saying that out loud, his pen hovering over the paper. “He looks at you like you've descended from heaven very specifically for him. Anytime you're both around in the same room, the first people you look for are each other. Don't give me that bullshit, alright?”

Before you can answer him, Mr Accetta's loud voice booms through the classroom, pointed towards the two of you. “What's the formula to calculate the escape velocity for an object leaving earth, keeping in mind surface gravity?” Thankfully, Jake's mildly ruthless style of tutoring has prepared you for surprise questions, and the formula slips past your lips as quickly as it can. “Square root of 2gr.”

Mr Accetta gives you a pleased nod, questioning Jake next, who answers the question with a calm, casual, and languid ease, the kind that comes when you're extremely sure about what you're doing. It infuriates and amuses you at the same time, because there's something so special about your best friend that is so dearly, incredibly endearing, for a lack of better term.

Jake turns back to you, a smug grin on his face. “Guess you really did listen to my tutoring instead of staring longingly at Sunoo's face the entire time.” You promptly stomp his foot. He jerks his leg high enough to knock his knee into the desk, screaming silently at the pain. The rest of the class turns your way at the sound, but when they don't find anything worth their time and interest, they turn away.

Glaring at you, he wipes the tears forming at the corner of his eyes with one hand, the other still cradling his sore knee. Settling back into his seat, he flips you off, before returning his attention to Mr Accetta once more.

You smile at the sight, turning back to the board. Your notes are a mess, streaks of pink glitter from Jake's pen still dusting the edges of your pages. You'll steal his later, and while he'll complain and whine about it, his hand will still be the one holding the book out for you to take.

The tips of your ears still burn, and your pulse still thrums like the strings and chords of a well-loved guitar under your skin.

Of course, it always started with the small things.

Sunoo is the sun personified, you decide, on a Thursday afternoon.

But it's not just any Thursday afternoon. The sun warms the pavement with gentle rays, and the sky is so blue and the clouds so fluffy and white, you'd think it was a scene pulled from a Ghibli animation. The roar of the sea is quieter at this point of time, but the salty, humid air of a seaside summer still clings to your skin.

There are a few birds chirping, their calls as sweet as the scent of the hibiscus that lingers in the passing wind, joining the gentle sway of the bougainvillea vine that's ever-so-sneakily creeped over the railings of the outdoor balcony, as the humming and chattering in the background quieten to a soft hush.

Everything about this day is perfect.

And really, why wouldn't it be? Because sitting across from you is Kim Sunoo, blond hair shining like strands of gold against the dancing rays of sunlight that filter through tiny gaps in the restaurant's terracotta tiled roof.

He's resting his head on his hand, browsing through the menu. As if feeling the weight of your lingering stare, he raises his head and catches your gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle, almost disappearing, as his lips curve into the gentlest and softest of smiles. “Am I really that interesting?” He teases, but the hand that was holding the menu earlier is already making its way across the table, before it finds your own. “I doubt anything about me begs this great of a level of detailed attention. Most people aren't this attentive to me.”

His fingers thread with yours. Your pulse nearly stutters to a halt. Your ears burn with heat.

Still, you squeeze his hand.

“You're interesting to me.”

Sunoo blinks at that, as if he hadn't expected the answer. Perhaps he'd expected a joke, a deflection, or maybe even embarrassed avoidance—but not whatever… this was. A confession? An admission? Simply a statement? Or was it a fact? You're not sure what to call it yourself.

But something about your words—quietly spoken into the wind, with no hesitation behind them—must've clicked with him, because his expression softens some more, warmth seeping like dripping honey into the brown of his irises. His thumb rubs circles over the backs of your knuckles, before he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a gentle, reverent kiss against them.

The touch is fleeting—barely lasting a fraction of a second—but the featherlight press of his lips against your skin speaks to you more than a thousand words ever could. His eyes fall shut, even as he turns your hand over to kiss your palm, before finally leaving a last one on the inside of your wrist, this one lingering longer than the other two.

His hand still holds onto yours, the warmth of his body seeping through yours. Your skin still tingles in the places his lips had been to, but the shiver that trails down your spine is a pleasant one. When he opens his eyes once more, Sunoo smiles when he meets your own.

Your pulse quickens again.

But this time, it's because Sunoo's the one holding the guitar of your heart, thrumming the strings along to his whims, as he hums a melody of his own. You follow it without question, heartbeat spiking and dipping with the notes he's set in place for you.

Strangely, you don't mind it. If having him meant that you'd have to place your heart in his hands, you know that you'd do it without hesitation.

The reasoning behind it is simple.

Because this is the same young boy who cried over a fallen flower back when you were anything but tiny little kids all those years ago because he thought the plant would die. Because you know if you handed it to him, he'd cradle it with the greatest of care.

Because it's Sunoo.

And that's enough for you.

The chill of the swimming pool shocks you to your bones.

When you surface back up, clothes and hair clinging tightly to your skin, the perpetrators behind the “crime” of pushing you into the water grin down at you, blocking the sun from you with their shadows.

Jake and Sunoo sport matching, mischievous grins—the kind that tell you that they didn't have an ounce of regret about what they've just done. It's also the kind of grin that just makes you want to get back at them, because the way they look is so endearingly annoying.

Like a pair of cats who got the cream and licked it clean with zero remorse.

The corners of your mouth twitch upward.

Sunoo is the one who spots it first, because of course he's the one who notices everything about you first. Jake sees it a second later, but it's still a second far too late, because you're already leaping over the coping, water dripping onto the concrete as you grab both of them by their ankles and drag them in with a loud splash.

When you surface again, Sunoo and Jake are on either side of you, staring back at you with equal, identical looks of offense, like they couldn't believe what you'd just done. You hold their gazes for a moment longer, wet hair plastered to your forehead, the water rippling gently around the three of you.

Then, Sunoo laughs.

It's not one of those loud, full-bellied laughs, but it is one of those tiny, hushed ones that only come out when the two of you are up at 3 AM, trying not to laugh too hard at the videos you're watching because one of you couldn't fall asleep, the laughter being more snickers than giggles because you don't want to disturb the neighbours.

Jake joins in right after, his shoulders shaking as he giggles, leaning against the pool’s wall for support. Your own chuckles meld into the harmony of theirs, slipping in like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Sunoo swims over to you, his sleek figure cutting through the water in clean waves, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body. “Had your fun, huh?” He tries his hardest to pretend to be annoyed, even frowning a little, but his eyes—oh, those pretty brown eyes—immediately give him away.

Not because they're crinkling at the corners the way they do when he smiles.

No, it's because of something else entirely.

It's because they look at you with such fondness it hurts.

Like you're the only thing he sees, in between the chaos of the pool party at Jay's. Over Riki's screaming and shrieking, over the sound of Sunghoon and Jay calling for him to be careful, over Heeseung's loud yells of glee as he sprays Jungwon and Riki with a water gun while Jake eggs him on.

He looks at you like you're his past, present, and his future—and he seems so sure of it all, that it leaves you breathless. The world slows down to a stop, the sun aligning just enough to create a little halo behind his head, the blond strands shining so beautifully—and the noise around you quietens to only the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, the air in your lungs still having trouble on the way out, smiling at him. “What are you going to do about it, hm?”

He mirrors your expression, his grin slowly widening as he takes you in. “Nothing much,” he hums, a hand coming up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “Just a little punishment, nothing else.”

“And,” you lick your lips just a little, and his eyes follow the small movement for the slightest of seconds, before they flicker back to yours, “what might this little… punishment be?”

Your eyes never leave his, and neither do his break away from you.

“Just this,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, as both his hands come to cradle your face properly, “and nothing else.”

Then, his lips are on yours, as he pours in everything he feels into the kiss.

His hands are still cold from the pool, but they slowly warm up as the heat from your skin seeps into his own. His thumb rubs circles on the apple of your cheek, while his other one tangles itself into your hair as he deepens the kiss. A sweet, syrupy sort of warmth spreads through your veins, and you welcome it wholeheartedly.

It burns and sizzles through the traces of everything else, until there's nothing else left in this world but the two of you.

At least until Jungwon interrupts.

“Oi, lovebirds!” He giggles, and now having wrestled the water gun away from Heeseung, he turns it on the two of you. “Get a room, or get soaked!”

Sunoo breaks away with a small scream from the coldness of the water, but his arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist, even as he playfully glares at the younger boy. “Oh, Yang Jungwon, you're so dead.”

Jungwon runs around the poolside deck as Sunoo finally lets go of you to chase after him, their feet leaving wet footprints all over the wood. Riki and Sunghoon swoop in to “help,” while Heeseung, Jay, and Jake cheer them on from where they lounge in the sun.

The laugh that bubbles out of you this time is loud and free and everything that you feel, watching all the people you cherish and love be so happy without a care. Sunoo's blond hair whips with the wind as he runs around, and your chest warms at the sight.

Yeah, there's no question about it.

You're absolutely, incorrigibly, undeniably in love with Kim Sunoo.

Jake's fingers are warm, as they brush against your nape.

Sunoo watches from nearby, with his arms crossed over his chest and a little quirk of his lips, as he leans against the old mahogany dresser in your bedroom.

“It looks good,” he finally speaks, strolling over to let his fingers brush against the smooth metal of the pendant resting on your collarbones, just as Jake steps away to sit on your bed instead. “You know my girlfriend so well, Sim.”

“Of course I do,” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “I've known this brat since she was but a snotty-nosed little toddler.”

You cuddle into Sunoo's side, and he presses a quick kiss to your temple, even as you stretch your leg to half-heartedly kick Jake on the shin. “I was not a snotty-nosed toddler. Are you really sure that your memory isn't failing you as we get older?”

“Oh, we're really going there now?” Jake scoffs in playful offense. “You want me to pull out the photographic evidence?” He threatens, hands already reaching for his pocket. “Your baby pictures are enough to prove my claim.”

“Why do you even have my baby pictures, you muppet?” You question, arm resting around Sunoo's waist. “Because your mum sends them to me.” He snorts, unlocking his phone.

“What?” Your offended shriek echoes around the four corners of the room. “Why is my mum sending my baby pictures to you of all people?!”

“Because she loves me,” Jake shrugs like it's only natural fact that your mother absolutely adores him (and it is, really, considering how long your family has known the Sims for), “perhaps even more than you.”

“OI!”

He laughs harder at your expression, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

“If it helps,” Sunoo quips dryly, brushing a few strands out of your face. “Your mother sends them to me regularly as well.”

“It does not help!” You shriek, betrayed at the thought of your mother sending both your boyfriend and best friend embarrassing childhood pictures of yours.

“Well,” Sunoo shrugs casually, “at least I can say that I tried. Also, you were really cute as a kid.”

“As a kid,” Jake emphasises, pointing a pillow at you, “now she's just an obnoxious gremlin who likes to disturb my peace as soon as she gets a day off from her job.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, raising a brow in jest. “That I can't deny,” he hums, his fingers brushing along your arm. “But I must confess that I greatly enjoy the fact that she always wants to spend time together.”

You roll your eyes, but still kiss his cheek. Jake pretends to gag at the sight, clutching his chest. “Ugh, get a room! Leave! Shoo!”

You throw his empty can of Monster Ultra resting on your vanity at his head.

“You're in my room, you donkey! If anyone should be leaving, it's you!”

“Ugh, she's kicking me out already!” Jake's half-running, half-giggling as he makes his way out of your bedroom, before turning back to face both Sunoo and you in the doorway. “Thanks for keeping her out of my hands, Kim! See you!" he sings out, waving at your boyfriend.

Then he's off, slamming the door shut behind him just as you throw a pillow in his direction.

Sunoo laughs, his other arm wrapping around you as well to trap you in his embrace, his chest warm against your back even through the fabric of your shirt. “Well, he's not wrong. I'm more than happy to keep you to myself.”

Your hands come to rest on top of his, as the two of you sway in your bedroom to an invisible melody. “Good thing I wanna stay with you, then?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours in the mirror of your vanity. “Saves me the hassle of convincing you to stay.”

“Lucky you.” Your reflection sports a wide smile, the two little koi fishes (the one you'd taken to nicknaming as Sunoo and Jake in your head) on your pendant glinting in the evening sunrays.

“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your neck affectionately. “Lucky me, indeed.”

Lucky you, indeed. Ordinary days aren't so bad if they're spent with him.

Butterscotch seems to like cuddling Sunoo far more than you these days.

You stare at the cat sitting in your boyfriend's lap, curled up into a mangled little croissant of a ginger cat over his thighs, purring so loud that you can feel it in your bones.

“Butter,” you poke his little whiskered cheek, as Sunoo huffs in amusement at the sight. “You've always been a mama's boy. Why are you sticking to the spare human all of a sudden?”

That draws a snort from Sunoo, his hand reaching out to smooth over the few tufts of unruly fur sticking out from Butterscotch's fluffy coat. “Is that what I'm relegated to now? Not even ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’?”

You stick your tongue out at him, poking Sunoo's cheek. “Yes, you're the spare human right now, because Butterscotch hasn't cuddled with me for three days straight. He's even begun to sleep on your side of the bed!”

“Good,” he pinches your cheek in retaliation, a smug smile on his face. “At least now you'll understand what it feels like to be given only an inch of space on the bed because my girlfriend and my son are too busy cuddling with each other.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “We do not take up that much space on the bed.”

Sunoo scoffs, though the sound is more amused than sarcastic. “I'm always half a turn away from toppling to the floor.”

“You'll be fine. The floors are warm.”

“So is the bed.”

“You can survive one night on the flooring.”

“I could, but only if you don't hog all the blankets at night.”

“I do not hog the blankets!” You definitely do, and you're well aware of that fact.

“Sure, you don't. And Butterscotch doesn't scream at us for breakfast at exactly 5:50 AM on the dot.”

“Sunoo!”

“You don't have to say my name so many times, you know? You did enough of that last night.”

You punch his arm.

He laughs harder.

But so do you.

“Butter, come back to mama,” you try to coax the little orange menace into your arms, but he stubbornly remains splayed on your boyfriend, even affectionately headbutting Sunoo's chin in response to your calls.

Sunoo snickers, leaning down to let Butterscotch brush against his head, a hand coming up to support the cat. “You're asking a senior citizen to listen to you. That is foolish, no?”

“He may be fourteen, but he has perfectly functional ears,” you huff. Sunoo kisses the top of Butterscotch's head. “Yeah, perfectly functional ears that he is using at the moment to ignore you.”

You pout, and Butterscotch finally relents his onslaught of affection on Sunoo, and turns to you for a little kitty kiss that you gratefully accept. “There's my boy.”

You scratch under his chin and the orange cat purrs happily, but his tail still reaches out to wrap around Sunoo's arm. “Do you want me to be closer, Butter?”

Butterscotch only meows once at him, and Sunoo moves close enough that there's no space remaining between the two of you, his thigh brushing against yours as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. “Is that better, cutie?”

Satisfied with the proximity that's been created, Butterscotch’s purring grows louder and he settles between you and Sunoo, an equal half splayed across the both of your laps.

“Guess we've got to abandon the rest of the day, then,” Sunoo murmurs, a finger brushing over Butterscotch's closed eyes. “His Highness wants to cuddle with us.”

The trees sway with the wind, steadily growing obscured to the vision as fog takes over. The low rumble of thunder rolls outside, before the spitter-patter of raindrops against window panes slowly grows louder.

The apartment is warm, and the coffee machine buzzes with a low hum, still trying to make Sunoo's coffee for the past half an hour. You'll have to call the company and ask for a replacement.

But that can come later.

For now, you lay your head on Sunoo's shoulder. He rests his on top of yours. Butterscotch is now asleep in your laps, dreaming of things only kitties do.

It always is the little things that matter.

Jake shows up first, a bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand.

“Hey,” you smile at him. “You brought Butterscotch's favourite flowers.”

He mirrors the expression, though it's more somber and subdued than usual. “Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Needed to make sure that the little guy could smell his favourite scents. He adores them so much, after all.”

You move to the side to welcome him into the apartment, and he walks in, his footsteps soft and careful, as if afraid to disturb the quiet that had settled over your home.

Heeseung and Jungwon arrive second, carrying an old, worn out toy each. They nod in acknowledgement, light footsteps making their way into the living room. You don't follow, opting to pace by the doorway instead.

Riki, Jay, and Sunghoon show up not more than twenty minutes after, Riki's hands tightly clutched around a brand new pack of tuna treats, while there's a baby blanket slung over Sunghoon's arm. The oldest of the three hugs you tightly, his hands warm against your back.

You lean into Jay, taking in the quiet feelings that bleed through his touch.

The clock echoes twice, signalling the arrival of the second hour of the afternoon.

You finally join them to reunite with the others in the living room, where they're circled around Sunoo on the floor. He leans his head against the sofa, eyes closed as if weighed by the dark shadows under them. Exhaling softly, he huffs out a tired breath when his eyes meet yours.

You take the time to take him in.

His blond hair, so vibrant before, is a bit more dull now. He's paler from the lack of sleep, but you suppose that you don't quite fare much better than him anyways. He gives you an exhausted smile, and pats the little space next to him.

Your eyes trail down to his lap, where Butterscotch lays on a giant, fluffy pillow. Jake brings over the vase of flowers, setting it down onto the wooden floors with a soft ‘Clink!’ that rings out in the apartment far louder than it should. Butterscotch lifts his head, nose twitching as he catches the faint wisp of the flowers’ scent.

Jay holds them closer for him. The feline takes a deep whiff, then lays his head back down. Riki extends his hand to feed him his sixth treat of the hour. Butterscotch eats it anyway.

The clock in the hallway chimes again. 2:30 PM.

You make your way over to them, cuddling into Sunoo's side. He leans his head on your shoulder, hair tickling your skin, but you don't move away. His eyes remain on Butterscotch the entire time.

Sunghoon drapes the baby blanket over him, tucking the corners under the cat, so that he's bundled up in the way he loves to be held. Jungwon and Heeseung wave the toys around, and Butterscotch bats at them exactly twice. They still smile at the sight.

The clock chimes thrice. 3:00 PM.

The bell rings. Nobody moves.

Then Jay gets to his feet, shuffling over to the door. The young woman you've gotten acquainted with over the past two years as Butterscotch's vet walks in, her nose and eyes red. She says it's from the cold on the way over to the apartment.

You don't point out that it's still June.

Jungwon and Riki move to make space for her. She kneels on the floor, leaning her head down to brush her forehead against Butterscotch's head. “Hi, Butterscotch,” her voice is soft, and the feline makes a low noise in his throat, one that you can only consider to be an acknowledgement. “It's Anya. You remember me? You purred so much I couldn't hear your heartbeat the last time I saw you.”

Butterscotch's slow purring starts again, and Sunoo runs his fingers through his fur.

Nobody comments on how laboured it is.

Riki silently hands her the bag of treats. She feeds Butterscotch three instead of her usual two. Then she smoothes his fur over, pressing a kiss to his head.

Sunghoon and Jungwon gently ink both his front paws. Jake carefully presses them onto the paper, leaving behind inked impressions of his paws and toe beans.

You wipe them clean, scratching under his chin.

The rest of the entire process is quick and efficient. Anya doesn't say a word the entire time. Neither do you.

Butterscotch twitches twice, and your hand instinctively reaches out to lay on his side.

The breath you've held the entire time finally seeps out of your lungs.

Sunoo lifts the pillow, and places a kiss onto Butterscotch's head, between his ears.

Anya pulls the stethoscope away, and nods her head.

You give her a watery smile. When she leaves, a heavy silence settles over the room. There's no one speaking. No one breathes out loud.

Then, you lean down to kiss the little orange menace.

Butterscotch doesn't lift his head this time.

Six pairs of arms wrap around you, as Butterscotch lays splayed across Sunoo's and your lap. This time, he remains still.

This time, the bell on his collar doesn't jingle softly as his head rests on Sunoo's palm.

The sound of the door to your bedroom slamming open is incredibly loud and jarring.

It brings you out of your daze, and when you look up from your feet, you find a fuming Jake standing in the doorway.

His breaths are heavy and laboured, as if he'd run all the way to you. Sweat drips down his temple, dropping to his white tee. His glasses are askew, his hair is all over the place, as if the wind had mussed it up, and his flannel is disheveled, one side falling off of his shoulder, while his socks are mismatched, one navy blue and one white.

He meets your eyes, and the fury in his own grows tenfold.

“What the fuck is he doing?” He hisses, storming over to you. You flinch at the volume, and he notices, softening his voice a little, although it does nothing to hide how angry he is. “Why did Jungwon call this morning to tell me that you and Sunoo broke up because he wanted “something more”? Did I seriously hear him right?”

You don't answer him.

Actually, it's more like you don't know how to.

So you keep quiet.

“No fucking way,” Jake breathes out, dropping to his knees next to where you're sat on your bed. “Did he just wake up and leave?”

“Jake.” Your voice is soft, and Jake's heart breaks at how small you sound. “It's not what you think it is.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I think I know what this is,” he snarls, scowling as he fists the sheets in rage and sadness. “I told you, he was acting so fucking weird since the time Butterscotch passed. At first, I tried to pass it off as just grief and that he was in mourning, and that I shouldn't say anything because different people grieve in different ways, but then he pulled away from all of us.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Jake doesn't let you, continuing his heated rant.

“It's been a year since then! It was okay when he started getting distant and pulling away. First, he wouldn't come around often, telling us he was ‘tired’ and ‘exhausted.’ Then he started speaking less and less to us. After that, he wouldn't even pick up our calls or read our messages, like he thought himself too good for us, but seriously?! He left you behind for something “better”?! What else or who else could he find that's better than you?!”

“Jake.”

He doesn't listen, continuing to ramble, his hands spinning and twisting in the air like a physical extension of his anger.

“Jake.” You try again.

He still doesn't hear you, his ranting growing louder and louder and louder till your head begins to throb from how much you've been crying all day.

“Jake!”

He stops still at the way you scream his name, and turns to face you properly for the first time since he arrived at your apartment. “Oh,” he breathes out, his own lip quivering at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes, and the way they're puffed from the way you've been sobbing since the morning when Sunoo finally left. “I'm so sorry, bug. I really am so sorry.”

His hands wrap around you in an embrace, but you don't return it.

He holds you for a bit longer, before finally letting go, as he looks up into your eyes. “Talk to me, bug. Tell me what's on your mind.”

You lick your chapped lips, before sighing softly.

“Sunoo's gone, Jake.”

“No, he's not. I'll bring him back, and he's going to apologise to you, and then the rest of us.”

“Jake.”

“I refuse to believe he just up and went.”

“Jake.”

“Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he really think I'll just let him walk away like that, after taking so much from you? Selfish fucking bastard.”

“Jake.”

“I'm sorry I ever considered him a friend.”

“Jake!”

“What?” He glares up at you, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, both at grief for himself and for you.

“Sunoo made his decision himself. We need to respect that.”

Jake looks like he's bitten something that's bitter and sour at the same time. But he doesn't speak anymore, because the finality in your words tell him that you've already accepted this fate.

“Right. Right,” he nods. “Respect the guy who couldn't even leave us with a respectable goodbye.”

“Jake.” Your voice breaks, but it doesn't stop him from standing up. He removes his glasses to wipe away his tears, and turns to you, his face completely blank, with any and all traces of rage and sadness erased from it.

“I'll order in some dinner for you. Have that, and go to sleep early. You've got a shift in the morning tomorrow. Or take the day off. I don't really care.”

You sigh softly.

“I…” He pauses, then nods his head again. “I'm going home. Layla's been very anxious as of late.”

“Okay.” You agree. “Take care.”

“… You too.”

Then he's off once more, the sound of the door falling shut behind him echoing far too loud in your ears.

You cry some more into Sunoo's hoodie, still bearing his scent from when he'd worn it a week ago.

At least the silver lining here is that your boss likes you quite a bit.

The city truly comes alive at night.

It's been three months since Sunoo left.

Everyone else—Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, Riki—came after Jake left your apartment that Thursday. They asked the same questions that he did. “Why did Sunoo leave like that, so abruptly?”

You still told them the same thing you told Jake.

“Please respect that it was Sunoo's decision to leave.”

They seemed put off by that answer. Their expressions screamed that they wanted an answer beyond that simple, final sentence, but you didn't quite have the words nor the energy to explain everything to them.

Riki and Jungwon seemed the most affected by your easy acceptance of Sunoo's departure. They'd been the closest to him after Jake, and to see you simply tell them to leave the matter alone by framing it as Sunoo's decision, must've really hurt them. Probably hurt quite a bit too, considering the frequency of their visits to your home had slowly begun to dwindle.

First it had been the youngest two.

Then it had been Heeseung and Sunghoon. Work kept them busy, but even then, you could see through the gaps where they had begun to form.

The last one had been Jay. He'd been over one night, aware of how everyone had begun to drift away. He said nothing, but the forlorn expression on his face as he left told you enough.

Only Jake came over as often as he used to. But even his visits were shorter, dropping by to check up on you, before he left. Layla had been steadily growing more anxious over the last few months, and he'd also got himself a girlfriend.

You'd met her once, when Jake invited you out to eat, after you'd spent one too many weekends staying at home. She was pretty, but she was also sweet and kind—the kind that was perfect for Jake.

You smile at the thought of her. At least Jake has someone to take care of him now.

The air seemed especially cold tonight, and you pull your scarf closer to yourself. The early September chill had begun to seep in, just as warmer jackets and scarves had begun to make their yearly reappearances once more.

The street buzzes around you, lamp posts diffusing golden light over the pathways. Golden, you pause under one, looking up at the sky where a single, lonely star twinkles by itself. Just like him and his hair.

Everything about tonight seemed to be connected to Sunoo.

You pass by the fourth corner of the seventh street, where stands a giant billboard with an advertisement for his favourite brand of soda.

Then comes the park, with a couple laughing and spending time with each other in the swings. 1 AM. Two cans of vanilla flavoured soda resting against the metal poles of the swings.

You continue to walk.

The animal shelter by the lakefront appears. It's still operating, low hums of the generator melding with the soft meows and yips of its residents, cut by the gentle human voices that speak to them. Pink carrier. He'd been the one to pick it out. A very grumpy, old, and annoyed orange cat meowing—actually, howling—in your backseat the entire time you drove back to your apartment.

You flit past the entrance.

The grocery store at the second avenue. The neon signs have been replaced by something that's easier to read. LEDs, perhaps. You're not sure. Midnight grocery runs. You were never really sure about whether you wanted the strawberry chews or the lemon ones, so he'd put both in, sneaking in a bag of mint chocolate too. You always looked away at the cashier's counter.

Your feet remain in continuous motion.

The café on the third exit of the roundabout. The decor is finally more tasteful now, the horrendously large lights replaced in favour of softer, warmer lanterns. He always said that his eyes hurt, even when he sat in the booth farthest from the lights. Still, he came back—and forced you to come with him—every time because he adored their brownies.

The barista flips the sign to ‘CLOSED’ just as you walk past the door.

The florist tucked away in the third alley. You've never really been here. It's just on the way during an easier shortcut on the way back home. They usually display their flowers in the windowfront. Sunflowers, daisies, orchids, dahlias. Tonight, it's roses.

More specifically, white roses.

Your feet come to a halt by the storefront.

Your reflection stares back at you. He'd tucked the delicate bouquet of white roses into your lap the moment you got into his car. “It's a Thursday, and what kind of person even brings white roses to a first date?” He'd smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. “The kind that takes his date to a restaurant by the sea for a first date.” You smiled back.

The florist peeks her head out of the door, tapping your shoulder. You blink, turning to look at her. She's probably not older than nineteen, that youthful flush still colouring her skin. She gives you a shy smile, pointing to the flowers. “Would you like a few?”

You stare at her for a few minutes.

Then, you smile. “Sure. Make it pretty, please.”

She gives you a pleased smile, and ushers you inside from the cold.

Looking at her deft fingers carefully arrange the bouquet to your liking, your chest warms, the metal of the little pendant with the koi fish warming with your skin. You pay and thank her, heading back outside, the scent of roses clinging to your skin now.

The air is colder, and your scarf comes loose by just a bit. The streetlamps still shine golden. You look up at the sky, which has grown cloudier now.

But now, a second star shines besides the first one. Its glow is dimmer than its counterpart, more silver than gold, but it still shines through the clouds.

You smile at the sight, clutching the bouquet closer.

Yes, Sunoo had made his decision.

It was now time to make yours.

The phone in your palm rings once, twice, thrice.

“Hello?” Jake picks up on the fourth ring. Layla's excited yips mix with the soft coos of his girlfriend in the background.

Your smile grows wider at the sound.

“Hey,” you greet. “Where are you?”

“At home, why?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Layla's finally a bit calmer now, so my girlfriend and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a date night.”

“That's good. Enjoy your time. Tell her that I said hi.” You hum softly.

“I will,” his voice is soft. “But did you need something? Why'd you call?”

“Oh, it's nothing much. Just wanted to tell you that I was going on a trip.”

“A trip? Now?” You hum louder. “Yeah. Wanted to get some self-reflection in. It's been a while since I've spent time by myself.”

Jake is silent for a bit, before he answers you again. “Have fun, then. When are you leaving?”

“Probably tomorrow,” the excited lilt returns to your voice. “Will you let the others know? It's pretty late, so I'm not sure that they'll pick up my calls.”

“Sure,” Jake replies, as if it was no second matter. “I will.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

The line is silent for a bit longer. “Take care.”

“Mhm, you too. Love you, Jake.”

He's quiet once again.

“What, you don't love me anymore?”

He scoffs at your playful jab. “Yeah, I don't. Not one bit—of course I love you too, you stupid bug. How long will you be gone for?”

“A while.”

“Short or long?”

“A bit long, I think.”

He pauses, and you hear the soft clink of a mug being set on the counter, as his girlfriend whispers to him that she's going to go set the movie up.

“… Have fun, bug. I've been a bit sick of seeing your face so much, too.”

You don't answer immediately.

The amused lilt of his voice makes you smile some more.

The wind picks up its speed, and a few rose petals scatter along with it.

“Yeah, don't worry about that,” you close your eyes, as the scent of roses grows stronger with each pass of the breeze.

Jake’s laughter echoes in your ears, the sound sweet as ever. Oh, how you truly did love Sim Jaeyun.

“I do plan on not coming back any time soon.”

The ink on the pages blurs from his tears, blotting the white sheet with splotches of running pink, glittering spots.

Jake holds the pendant in his hand, though with the way his fingers tremble, it threatens to slip out of his grasp, much in the same way his life had since today morning.

The sky had been somber, and the birds didn't chirp the same way they usually did, like they were grieving something they'd lost too.

Sunoo's letters had arrived that morning. Six of them. One for each of them. Labelled with their names and addresses in shaky handwriting, but still undeniably his. To Heeseung hyung. To Jay hyung. To Jake hyung. To Sunghoon hyung. To Jungwon. To Riki.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't even going to open his. The wound that Sunoo had left behind by leaving so abruptly still stung and festered, but Layla had fetched it from the table for him when he'd set it away.

And god, he would've regretted not reading it.

The letter itself had started simple.

Sunoo asked him about his life, about his girlfriend, about Layla. He talked about the sea by the place he was staying at, how the stars shone so brightly in the sky at night. He talked about the way the mint chocolate he'd get was so bland, he missed the ones from the grocery stores back here. Typical Sunoo.

Then he spoke about how sorry he was. And Sunoo seemed sorry for a lot of things.

He said sorry for missing their hangouts. For talking less and less to them. For not giving Butterscotch more kisses when he could. For missing Layla's birthday party. For not picking up his calls. For not picking up everyone else's calls. For not replying to their messages.

But he seemed really apologetic about one thing.

He said he was really, really sorry for not telling them about the illness.

The same one that had taken his final breaths today, with a severe heart failure. The hospital had called a few hours after. Said Sunoo passed in his sleep. That he was peaceful.

And the only thing Jake could think about after that call was you.

So he'd come over to your apartment as soon as he could, only to find it empty. The apartment itself was clean, with nothing out of place.

His phone rang with messages from the others, telling him that they'd be coming over soon, too.

For a moment, he thought about searching for you. Then, he remembered that you were out on a trip.

So he decided to call, because he knew you didn't read texts very quickly.

With his phone raised to his ear, the line was ringing, lying in wait for the other side to pick up, when he saw it.

An envelope, left behind on your vanity.

He tried his hardest to ignore it, but his curiosity won over anyways. So he walked right to it, and flipped it over. There was no address on it, and he was about to put it back down, when a familiar chain slipped out of the envelope.

He sets his phone down. The voicemail with your voice still rings out.

Jake's breath hitched at the sight. He carefully peeled away the glue, opening it up… and there it was. The pendant he gave you for your birthday.

The one you never took off.

The one with the two koi fishes you'd dubbed as him and Sunoo.

His eyes stung a little.

Your letter was written with a pink glitter pen. Much like Sunoo, you too talked about the sea and the flowers at the cliffside. About the way the birds came to chirp in the morning by your window, letting you know that they wanted you to feed them.

Then you talked about the illness. How the diagnosis had come two days before Butterscotch's passing. It was advanced cardiac cancer, the doctors had said. They'd do everything to help, but the chances of recovery would be low.

About how hard it was sometimes, to see Sunoo suffer under the weight of his own failing body. About how he wanted to move away to a different place for his treatment, so that his friends wouldn't have to see wither away, even if it meant that they'd hate him for it. About how you went over to him every weekend, just to see the way that the treatment procedures at the hospital seemed to sap his energy away day by day.

You wrote about Sunoo's letters, too.

About how you had to hold Sunoo's hand to support him as he wrote his six letters, and that he'd asked for his shaky handwriting to be excused for.

Then you apologised, too. About keeping it all a secret from him, from the others. That it was Sunoo's wish to be remembered as bright as he could be, and that there was no way you couldn't let the sun shine when it wanted to.

His vision grows blurrier, the letter grows harder to read.

You knew about it all.

Had known from the start.

The pendant slips from his fingers, clattering to the vanity table, as he reaches the end of the letter.

The sound of your voice ends, as the call hangs up.

Jake holds his head in his hands. His phone buzzes once more, lighting up with another call from the hospital. He stares at it for a bit longer, letting it ring.

Finally, with agonising slowness, he picks it up.

The person on the other end introduces himself as a doctor, and tells Jake that he's sorry for his loss. He thanks him quietly, and nods along.

The sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, as five sets of rushed footsteps head in the direction of your bedroom.

Riki bursts through first, his eyes red and face flushed. Jungwon and Sunghoon follow him after, as Heeseung wraps an arm around Jungwon to steady him.

The last one to meet his eyes is Jay.

The person on the line asks him to take care of his health, and to take his time to grieve. He agrees, and finally sets the phone back down.

“Why didn't he tell us?” Riki is the first one to break, sobbing into his hands. Sunghoon helps him sit down on your bed. Jungwon looks like he's going to throw up, and Jake feels like he will too. Still, he swallow the bile, and sits up straighter on the vanity stool.

Heeseung brings two glasses of water for the two youngest, trying to coax them into drinking some. Jay, his face strangely calm, turns to Jake. But he knows better—the hollowed look in Jay's eyes is something Jake understands entirely. “Was it the hospital that called you now?”

Jake nods, as Jungwon's sobs and Riki's wails grow louder. Sunghoon and Heeseung are tearing up too, despite the fact that they're still trying to comfort the other two. Only he and Jay are the ones who haven't cried yet.

“What did they say now?” Sunghoon asks, as Jay tries to calm Jungwon down. Jake answers quietly, that it was a check up call. But before he can say anything further, Heeseung cuts in.

“Where's she?”

Jake swallows softly. “Away.”

Heeseung nods. “Did she know?”

“Yes.” Jake's voice is calm as he answers. “But Sunoo asked her to keep it a secret.”

The older three frown at that, as the meaning of what you'd meant by “respecting” Sunoo's decision clicks into place.

“We were so wrong about both of them.” Jay mutters softly, his own eyes growing red.

“No.” Jake disagrees with that, as the last part of his conversation with the doctor echoes in his mind. “No, we weren't.”

“What do you mean?” Jungwon hiccups. Heeseung frowns, breathing heavily. “Now is not the time for cryptics, Jake.”

“I know,” Jake holds up your letter for them to see. “Remember how back in high school, we always used to joke about how she and Sunoo always searched for each other first?”

He points to the last line of your letter, and Jay sobs at the sight of it.

“We got one thing right.” Heeseung scoffs, wiping his tears. Sunghoon cries into Jay's shoulder, and Jake feels his own tears fall freely down his face. He smiles sadly, and it bleeds into a sob. “Yeah, we got one thing right.”

He picks up the pendant again, and clutches it to his chest.

Today, he'll grieve.

Tomorrow, he'll have two funerals to prepare for.

He looks back down at the letter, and smiles again.

Your handwriting is still there, etched into the paper like an epitaph to a headstone, only written in pink glitter, because he knows that it's the closest thing you had lying around.

Yeah, he really did get three things right. It was always a fucking Thursday with you and Sunoo, wasn't it? He spots the bouquet of white roses in the vase on the table next to your bed, the petals just beginning to brown at the edges. And those fucking white roses. The air freshner's scent of the sea wafts around the room. And the fucking sea. It was always those three with the two of you, wasn't it? A choked laugh bubbles out of him, as his eyes finally land on the little box displaying Butterscotch's faded pink collar.

[I love all of you. I especially love you a lot, my dearest childhood friend, Sim Jaeyun.]

The way the two of you are so in love sickens him so much.

[But I've already made my choice.]

Because no matter where either of you go….

[And both you and I know that there's nowhere else I'd be, other than his side.]

... or far apart the two of you are…

You'll always go back to Sunoo.

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