#flatmate!au

You opened your eyes to the jarring sound of your alarm, wishing more than anything else that you were dreaming and it wasn’t yet morning. But no. When did things ever go your way? Blindly reaching out, you smashed the snooze button.

Groaning, you pushed away covers that weren’t even there. In the heat, you had kicked off the thin blanket you draped over yourself anyway—again.

It was only morning, but you could already feel the humidity beginning to cling to your skin. How you wished you could fall back onto the mattress and drift off. The silence of the apartment reminded you of another thing, however—the poster you had drawn up the previous night: an advertisement for a flatmate. You really needed some noise and movement to distract you, especially after last month. Why did Dahyun have to move out?

The alarm began beeping again.

You had to get to work.

.

Saturdays at the library were always a sort of hassle. There were more children and their misinformed parents over the weekend than any other day. Of course there were some absolute darlings who loved to read and could sit for hours on end with their noses in a book or two. But on the other hand…

You sighed as you pushed open the door of the public library, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Before you could make it to the counter where you would be stationed for the day, you were stopped abruptly by a rather raucous child dashing across your path.

…On the other hand, those darlings always had siblings that had no interest in developing the skill of reading at all. Little rascals who came there only by force and chose to make as much noise as they could get away with.

You pursed your lips, staring distastefully at the runaway before walking swiftly over to the bulletin board. Slipping the notice for a flatmate out of your pocket, you pinned it to the board, then plopped down at the counter, depositing your backpack under the desk.

“Good morning, Y/N!” your co-worker Daniel chirped.

“Good morning, Daniel,” you replied dully, scooting your chair subtly away from him. You really didn’t have his energy at the moment. You loved the guy, but it was a little grieving to hear about his girlfriend twenty-four seven. To your relief, someone approached him at that moment, pulling his attention off of you.

There were quite the number of high schoolers despite it being a weekend, you noticed. Ah. There’s a reading room that the high schoolers are doing today, huh?  Your gaze swept around the seating area to your left. A familiar face caught your eye.

What’s Jinyoung sunbae doing over here? Is he reading to the kids, too? He was sitting with someone you couldn’t see because their back was to you. They seemed to be in some sort of deep discussion.  You weren’t worried. Anyone who came to the library with Park Jinyoung was sure to be just as much of a bookworm.

“Y/N!” You jumped at your supervisor’s voice, tearing your eyes away from your senior and looking up. Your supervisor tilted her head toward a cart full of books. “Be a dear and put these back, won’t you? I’ll man the desk for a bit.”

You bit back a curse, choosing instead to nod and leap up. You’d have to dodge some more kids but at least you could get away from Daniel’s overwhelming energy and rude ‘I-have-a-late-fee-but-I-have-no-intention-of-paying-it-off-quietly-I’d-rather-annoy-you-for-a-solid-ten-minutes-before-doing-just-that’ people.

.

“Jackson, I swear to every god there is, if you don’t find a place to live by the end of the weekend, I’m kicking you out. You can sleep on the streets.” Jackson flinched a little at Jinyoung’s sharp threat, but still pouted to lessen the impact—in vain; Jinyoung hadn’t even glanced up from his book to say all that. Some people didn’t even need eye contact to be intimidating.

“In this heat? Why, Jinyoungieee,” Jackson whined, dragging out his name. No effect. Park gae didn’t move. “Where will I go?”

“If you hadn’t dropped out, you could be staying at the dorms—legally,” Jinyoung remarked. “I’m not risking any more trouble sneaking you in.” Before Jackson could whine his name again, he continued. “Where’s JB hyung? Aren’t you always with him?”

Jackson chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering how much he should tell Jinyoungie—or rather, wondering how much he already knew. “Uhh…we kinda stopped talking to each other for a while…”

This made Jinyoung look up from the page he was reading, eyes narrowing. “You fought?”

Jackson twitched his shoulders. “Not exactly. Just…” Thankfully, Jinyoung didn’t force him to elaborate, only shooting him a look that said he would definitely be interrogated about it later. “And then hyung went to Japan, remember?”

“But he came back.” Jinyoung was biting his lip in confusion. Funny how anything related to JB hyung made him a million times more attentive.

“He did. But…”

“Now you feel awkward going and begging for living space when you haven’t contacted him in so long?”

Jackson scratched the back of his neck. How the heck does Jinyoungie talk so accurately? “Sure. You could put it that way.”

Jinyoung sighed, sitting up and closing his book. “Do you really think JB hyung feels that way? I know he’s scary when he’s mad, but he still cares about you, hyung. Go and see him. It’ll be fine.”

“But hyung’s so busy and he doesn’t have that much room…and he has his cats…”

Jinyoung tilted his head, thinking. “Well. That’s true. Then what are you going to do?” Jackson could only shrug in defeat, staring around the library without seeing what he was looking at—a staff member putting books back on the shelves…kids running around…Jinyoungie picking at the corner of his book mindlessly…general peace.

Wordlessly, Jinyoung stood to check out the book he had been reading. Jackson followed.

“Hello again, Jinyoung hyung!” the boy at the counter said brightly.

“Hey, Daniel. How are your classes going?”

Jackson totally zoned out on the interaction between the two. Maybe I shouldn’t have dropped out in the first place, he thought. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d gone imagining the life he could have led until he felt Jinyoung smacking his arm hard.

“Jackson!” he exclaimed, more forcefully, pointing to something. The bulletin board. More specifically, an ad pinned to the board.

An ad for a flatmate. Not too far from here.

“Seems like your lucky day, huh?” Jinyoung clapped him on the shoulder, taking a picture of it at the same time. “Go there today. You really don’t have much of an option.”

Jackson groaned.

“Fine.”

-

The doorbell ringing brought you out of your stupor. Hastily placing the photograph back on your bedside table and wiping your face off with a nearby towel, you made your way to the front door.

Now, you had seen nearly everyone who came by your place looking absolutely wrecked, but it still took you aback every time. You eyed the panting young man who stood outside your door in pity. Perhaps he thought he would have a few more seconds to catch his breath. You wondered how long he had been standing there before he rang the bell.

Fuck the standard questions. “Are you okay?”

He raised a hand and nodded, drawing one last breath and stabling himself. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“It’s quite a climb, isn’t it?”

He nodded. A beat passed in silence and then he seemed to remember why exactly he had rung your bell. “Ah!” he exclaimed, pulling out his phone. “Is this…?”

He turned it around, showing you the screen. You squinted at it, taking the phone in your hand. It was a chat in which someone had sent him the picture of your poster and a message under it—‘pls make a good impression for once’. You pressed your lips together to stifle your amusement—and then you saw the contact who had sent him the text.

“JYP?” You yelped, looking at the man in front of you in awe. “You know JYP?” He snatched his phone back in embarrassment.

“I—That’s a friend,” he said hastily. “He goes to SIU. I just call him that because he has the same name.”

That sounded familiar. “Wait, Park Jinyoung? You’re friends with him?”

Jackson hesitated. “Yeah…you know him?”

You smiled. “I go to SIU, too. He’s my senior. Who doesn’t know him?”

“Oh…that’s cool!” he replied, his face brightening. “I’ll definitely bring him around—if you accept me as your flatmate?”

Ah, so that’s what’s happening here. You crossed your arms, fighting a smile. “Are you already bribing me? I can’t believe you. I already have half a mind to not let you live here.”

His smile fell. “What? Whyy?” He didn’t hide the whine that escaped him.

Aw, that’s cute. “I’m kidding. If you’re a friend of Jinyoung sunbae, I’m guessing you’re a good guy.”

He frowned. “I’m sure that should be the other way, but it’s fine. I’m not arguing. Kinda desperate, here. Do you want me to, like, call Jinyoungie for you? To “affirm my credibility” or whatever?” He made air quotations.

You laughed it off, gesturing that he didn’t need to. He seems like a good guy. Maybe I won’t have to search any longer.

“I’m Jackson, by the way,” he suddenly spoke, looking sheepish. “Forgot to introduce myself.”

“Ah. I’m Y/N. And I’m desperate, too.” You sighed, blowing your hair off your face. “Do you know how glad I am that I rejected the guy who showed up before you? What a douchebag.”

A look of concern flashed across his face. “Someone came before me? Did he, like, try to hurt you or something? You’re okay?”

And he’s already concerned about me. I really really hope he doesn’t end up an asshole.

“I’m perfectly fine. Let’s talk splitting rent.”

.

“That’s the last of it,” Jackson announced.

You stood aside as his friend (Namjoon, was it?) dumped the two boxes he was carrying onto the floor, utterly exhausted. You couldn’t blame him. The two had been walking up and down the four flights of stairs with Jackson’s possessions all morning. You had helped, of course. But they weren’t used to climbing four floors.

“That better be the last, you jerk,” Namjoon spat. “When you said, ‘let’s hang out’, I didn’t think you meant this.” He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve.

“I’ll pay you back for this, man.” Jackson patted his shoulder. “Let me buy you meat tonight.” His friend looked suspiciously at him but relented. You bowed him out.

To be honest, you hadn’t realized how short Jackson was compared to a lot of other people until Namjoon was standing beside him. Although you supposed Namjoon was just a giant. But still.

“I’m so tired,” Jackson whined, flopping down onto his mattress.

“Good,” you retorted, kneeling down to face him. “When you’re tired, you listen better. There is a rule in this household: you’re not allowed in my room.”

Jackson gasped, exaggerating his reaction. “Are you a dictator now? Rules? Will I be chucked into jail if I don’t obey? Do I have to go into hiding?”

You rolled your eyes. “I literally only said you weren’t allowed in my room at any cost. Isn’t that a reasonable request? You can make your own rules, too. No one’s stopping you.”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “You can come into my room, I don’t really mind. Nothing in here anyway.” He turned his eyes on you, narrowing them. “What are you hiding? Please don’t tell me you’re harbouring a fugitive in there.”

“Oh my gosh, no.” You stood up again. “I just want my privacy. My old flatmate respected it, so I expect you to as well. Okay? I’ll respect yours if you respect mine.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m just kidding. Are you always so uptight?” You frowned at the goofy expression on his face. “I promise I won’t go into your room.” He seemed sincere enough.

Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad…

.

“JACKSON!” you shouted, pounding on the wall that divided your bedroom from his. “KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN!” If the volume went down at all, you couldn’t tell. Weary from lack of sleep for the past week or so, you rolled over and squinted at the time on your phone.

“Three thirty-four,” you muttered furiously. “THREE THIRTY-FOUR!”

And then the doorbell rang. And it rang again.

“Nobody ever does anything in this house,” you said loudly while forcing yourself up off the bed, half-hoping Jackson would hear it. But of course he wouldn’t. The amount of noise that was emanating from his room made sure of that.

The ringing became quite insistent and when you yanked the door open, wondering who on earth it wouldn’t be, you came face to face with Mr. Ok, the next-door neighbor. A tall man in his thirties, you had always found him quite the character—and you would’ve thought his pajamas and bedhead looked cute if it wasn’t for the expression of pure murder on his face.

“Oh…Mr. Ok,” you greeted with a hesitant bow.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” he nearly spat, hands balling into fists that you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use if he snapped. “Don’t you know we’re all trying to sleep?”

You winced. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ok, I’ve been trying to get Jackson to quiet down for a while, but he’s not listening—“

“Where is he?” He growled, stepping inside without invitation. You jumped at the chance of getting Mr. Ok himself to threaten Jackson. You led him gleefully to your flatmate’s door. After pounding on it for a solid minute, in which the noise levels dropped completely, the door opened to reveal Jackson lazily yawning—clearly expecting you to be standing there. His features rapidly rearranged themselves to a politer expression.

“Ah, hyung!” he exclaimed. “What a surprise!”

Hyung? you questioned wordlessly. Since when has he become so chummy with Mr. Ok?

“Surprise, huh?” Mr. Ok hissed, eyes daggers. “What the hell are you doing, making so much noise?” It seemed to be rhetorical, because he didn’t give Jackson a chance to answer. “I have to get up at six, as do many people in this establishment. A lot of them have to go to work, or school, and a lot of them have families to take care of. I’m aware you have no such commitments—perks of being unemployed, I suppose—“ Jackson’s face twisted slightly. “—but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do whatever you want. When you live in close proximity with a lot of people, you have to learn to be considerate of others. Forget others, you live with a flatmate. At least be considerate to them!”

Jackson didn’t answer. You assumed he was still stinging over the ‘unemployed’ comment.

Mr. Ok didn’t even try to soothe his harsh words before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He must have been tolerating it for longer than he let on.

You crossed your arms and smiled smugly at your flatmate. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

And just like that, his meek façade vanished, to be replaced by a pout. “But I wanted to finish the drama! I need the theatre effect to watch it, otherwise it’s just boring!”

You threw your hands up in the air and groaned, deciding it would be better for your health to just lock the door and then yourself in your bedroom.

Jackson was a mistake. One that you sorely regretted.

In the barely two months that you two began living together, you had learned one thing: Jackson was a force that was very much unstoppable. You would get burned if you so much as dared to try.

You could make a list—hell, you could write a book about the things he did that pissed you off. Was it your problem? Maybe. But it was clear enough that Jackson had certainly never learned how to adjust with people who weren’t on the same energy level as him.

He was loud. Point made. He was boisterous, always moving around, practically bouncing from room to room. You often restrained from asking him what gave him the right to look so damn happy. Perhaps you were just jealous. Your classes had begun again, and while you were working your ass off and burning the midnight oil just to keep your grades up, Mr. Unemployed seemed to be having the time of his life. Where did he even get the money to pay his rent off?

More than once, or even eight times, you had walked into the bathroom to find water literally everywhere—on the toilet seat, around the sink, on the floor, even on the walls. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he was even doing that made the entire damn place wet. He played music at night, loudly, with no regard for your wellbeing and the neighbours’. The nights he came home tipsy were even worse. And now he was watching a drama, it seemed. In full theatre mode.

The one rule you had—of him not being allowed to enter your room—had now expanded into a full three-page document, taped to the wall between your bedrooms.

You remembered how concerned he was about making a good impression in the first couple of weeks. He had even brought his friend Park Jinyoung around to meet you, as promised. Now you understood the pity in his eyes that day. He’d known things would get worse. You still got embarrassed when he sought you out in the cafeteria to ask how you were and if Jackson was giving you a hard time.

Maybe you should take Jinyoung sunbae up on that offer he made.

.

The breaking point came soon after.

It was a Thursday night and you’d just finished an essay due the day after, one that you’d been working on for the past week. So you were already running on barely three hours on sleep a day. It was past midnight, and Jackson still wasn’t home. He was probably lying drunk somewhere. As much as you wished you could just go to sleep and leave him to his own devices, you knew damn well that if he did show up, he would likely leave the door wide open and drool all over the couch.

You weren’t about to get robbed just because of Jackson’s bad decisions.

After calling him yet again and hearing no dial tone, you tossed your phone onto the dining table and waited with your head in your arms.

.

“I’m not drunk, Markipooh!” A loud exclamation, followed by someone shushing the voice sounded outside your door.

You swung it open, looking pissed enough for Mark—Jackson’s go-to designated driver and body hauler—to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You know I can’t control Jackson.”

“I’m not drunk, though?” Said man slurred, collapsing into a chair.

“Thanks, Mark.” You sighed bitterly. “Go home.”

As the door closed, Jackson lifted his head and repeated, “I’m not drunk, though.”

“Oh, really?” you snapped, raising your voice. “Then listen to this: I’m not your fucking servant or something, just waiting for my master to come home so I can attend to you! I’m a student and I have a shit ton of work to do and just because you are so useless you can’t find a job doesn’t mean I have to suffer for it!”

Fury dashed across his face. Seizing the first thing he saw on the table, he threw it with all his might at the wall behind you, where it shattered and fell sadly to the floor. You tensed, fear coursing through you, trembling as he came closer.

“Fucking shut up, I already have a headache.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the stench of alcohol. His door slammed.

Silence.

You slid to the floor, stunned. How could things have gone so wrong?

With shaking hands and a pounding heart, you felt around for your phone. The screen was cracked beyond repair, glass scattered all around you. What did you expect, that it would survive being thrown against a wall with Jackson’s muscle?

Enough, you decided. Enough was enough. He has to go.

And if you cried yourself to sleep that night against the dining room wall, nobody had to know.

-

“Y/N!”

You didn’t even think that anyone would be actually calling your name. So you didn’t stop. The entire day had you fuming internally, and you didn’t think anyone deserved to hear your outburst.

“Y/N!”

You halted. Normally you would be absorbed in your phone, but today you didn’t have it. Of course you didn’t. After last night, you didn’t even think it was safe to. You turned when you sensed the person—what did you mean, person, of course it was Park Jinyoung—catch up to you. If you were in your right mind at the moment, you might be a mildly blushing mess. Who wouldn’t be? It was Park fucking Jinyoung. But now? You were five point three centimeters from losing your temper completely and you couldn’t help but resent him for being friendly with you now when two months ago, he didn’t know your name, despite being your senior.

You sighed, turning around to face him. “Yes, sunbae?”

If he was taken aback by your slight rudeness, he didn’t show it. “I tried calling Jackson yesterday and this morning, and he didn’t pick up. He okay?”

You pursed your lips. “I couldn’t care less about Jackson, sunbaenim. You know my address, if you’re so concerned, why don’t you go and see how he is?” You scoffed and made to turn away, but Jinyoung caught your arm.

“Whoa, what’s with the attitude?” He teased, pulling you along with him down the hall and into the student council’s meeting room, currently empty. “You okay? What did he do?”

A little comforted that he immediately assumed his friend did something wrong, you slumped your shoulders. “A lot happened.”

“Clearly.” He leaned against the president’s desk and folded his arms. You didn’t know if he was analyzing you or not. Your face flushed under his gaze.

“He went out and came back drunk beyond words,” you explained, irritated at the memory. “And maybe I shouldn’t have, but I yelled at him saying that I wasn’t his servant to wait or clean up after him and—” you broke off, hesitating. “I might have told him off for not having a job.”

Jinyoung winced. “He’s pretty touchy about that.”

“Yeah, I figured.” You let out a bitter sigh. “He smashed my phone.”

“Wait, what?” Jinyoung lifted himself off the desk, looking at you in disbelief. “He—he smashed your phone? Jackson Wang?” You nodded, spreading your arms out.

“That’s why I don’t have it today. The screen shattered.”

Jinyoung looked genuinely disturbed. “It’s not like Jackson to lose his temper like that.”

You didn’t want excuses made for him, even if he had been drunk. “Oh, really? Pray, do tell.”

“Y/N—”

“Why? What did I do? Am I wrong?” If your eyes were daggers, Jinyoung would be bleeding now. “Tell me, sunbaenim. Am I just a maid to him?” You bit the inside of your cheek and spoke the words you had been contemplating all night. “I want to say yes to your offer, but he’s going to get kicked out soon. The nieghbours are already blacklisting him. If they tell him to leave, I won’t be able to hold any ground by myself.”

He seemed at a loss for words, appalled by both Jackson’s and your behavior. “Listen, I’ll talk to him, okay?” He checked his watch. “You should get to class.”

What’s the point? You thought, but conceded anyway. Just before you closed the door, you heard him call your name.

“And no, Y/N,” he said, a tight smile on his lips, “you’re not wrong. Give me your phone number.”

-

You refused to return home that day, choosing to stay all night in the library—until Jinyoung met up with you and nearly begged you to go back to your apartment.

“I’ve talked to him,” he had said, “and he’s really sorry about everything that happened last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t remember some of it, but anyway, he’s sorry. Hear him out.”

You couldn’t believe you were being forced to accept whatever pathetic apology your roommate was going to give you—just because he was your roommate and you had to live with him. It just wasn’t fair.

But when you stepped in through the door, the first thing that registered was the aroma wafting to you—the smell of food. Curious, you peered around the door and saw the little table beautifully set, dishes spread out all over it. And behind them all, obediently sitting on a chair, was Jackson. Guilty smile on his face, but still.

So this is his apology, you thought, closing the door and kicking off your shoes. A food bribe.

You pursed your lips as you reluctantly approached him, slinging your bag over the back of another chair. You crossed your arms. “What’s all this?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, diverting his gaze from your harsh stare. “I…uh, I wanted to apologize for the stuff I did…last night.” He pressed his lips together. “For breaking your phone and yelling at you and...stuff.” From under the table, he brought out a small box you instantly recognized as one a phone came in. “I got you a new one.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “You—wait, you got me a new phone?” Your tone did not hide your disbelief at all. “But…that’s expensive!”

“It’s my fault that yours is broken beyond repair,” he explained. “I’m obliged to do this.”

You couldn’t speak for a moment. “But…where did you get the money? I didn’t think—“

“Borrowed it from my mom,” he admitted, cheeks turning red. “I got an earful, but I had to do what I had to do.” He looked up at you pleadingly. “I’m really sorry for everything. I don’t usually lose my temper like that, I guess I was just frustrated—that’s no excuse,” he cleared hastily. “I just…I’m sorry.” He gestured to the food on the table. “I got your favourites?”

You didn’t know what to think. Jackson stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

Honestly, why does Wang look like a kicked puppy when he’s sad?

“I don’t forgive you,” you said firmly. His face fell. “But I do accept your apology.” Ignoring the sigh of relief that he let out, you sat down at the table.

“That’s good enough for now.”

“And I should apologize too,” you remarked, picking up your chopsticks. “I said some harsh things to you yesterday.”

Jackson waved it off. “No. You were right and I just didn’t want to admit it.” He sighed deeply. “I’ve started looking for a job.”

“That’s great, Jackson.” Your smile was genuine now. Looking reassured, your flatmate mimicked you and picked up his own utensils. “I’m glad.”

Jinyoung sunbae, I guess I won’t have to take up your offer after all.

.

“Yah, who the hell are you texting nowadays?”

You heard the whining voice of your flatmate before you saw him. Barely glancing up from your phone, you asked, “What happened, Jackson?”

He scoffed. “See? You’re not even looking at me when you say that. You’re always tapping away on your phone like I don’t exist here! Pay attention to me!” You let out a startled yelp when he plopped his heavy body onto your side. “I don’t think you’ve said a full two sentences to me in the past week.” When you ignored him, angling your screen away, he felt suspicious. “Who are you texting—!”

“Yah!” You attempted to grab your phone back from him in vain. Jackson suddenly sat up.

“Jinyoung sunbae?!” he shrieked. “As in my friend Park Jinyoung?” He held your phone out of reach with one hand and used his free arm to wrestle yours to the sofa seat. “What the hell are you even texting him for?”

“He’s not only your friend, Jackson,” you whined, squirming in his grasp. “He’s really nice to me at university, why can’t I talk to him? He’s my senior, too.”

You made noises of protest as he began to scroll through the messages the two of you had exchanged. Before long, he was spluttering in fury.

“What is this?” He yelped. “Hey Y/N do you want to meet up for coffee? Since when has Jin—actually never mind, since when have you two been that close?” He tossed you your phone and you took it back gratefully. “So this is why Jinyoung says he’s too busy to get food nowadays, huh?” Heat crept up your cheeks. “Are you actually blushing right now?” He howled. “Okay, I can’t take this anymore!”

Your phone began to ring. Both of your heads turned to it.

On the screen was a stupid photo of his friend and the name Jinyoung sunbae.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Jackson said lowly.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you spat in return, sliding the button to answer, pressing the speaker button simultaneously. “Hello, Jinyoung!”

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” came his voice from the speaker. “Are you busy? You didn’t answer my message.”

You giggled at the expression on Jackson’s face. “No, my flatmate was just being annoying.”

“Ah, Jackson? Is he there? Wait, is this on speaker?”

“Yah, Jinyoungie!” Jackson burst out, betrayal written all over his face. “Why are you ignoring me for Y/N? This isn’t fair; you were my friend first!”

“Are you serious right now, Jackson?” Jinyoung’s voice was amused. “I assumed you would be tired and busy from work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“But what about Wang gae Park gae?” he grouched.

“Wang what?” You looked from the phone to Jackson.

“Never mind about that, Y/N,” Jinyoung interjected hastily. “You’re coming, right?”

“Coming where?” A growl emanated from your flatmate.

“Yeah, sunbae, I’ll be there soon.” With words of parting, you hung up the call.

“Where are you going with him?” Jackson repeated.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You stood up, reaching for your backpack.

“Why can’t you tell me? I thought I was your flatmate, shouldn’t I be worried? What if you don’t come back?”

You burst out laughing. “Why would I not come back? Don’t you trust your own friend?” He opened his mouth to protest, but you were halfway out the door. “See you later, Jacks!”

-

“You should have seen his face!” you told Jinyoung, laughing along with him at the memory. “Has he always been like that?”

“He’s jealous.” Jinyoung shrugged.

“Hmm. Yeah. He really likes you, you know.” You pointed your pencil at him. “Why do you reject him when he asks you to get food? It’s like stealing candy from a puppy.”

“He likes me?” He retorted incredulously. “The heck? It’s me he’s jealous of.”

It was your turn to be puzzled. “What do you mean? He was literally whining about him being your friend first and that I was stealing you away from him.”

Jinyoung guffawed into the crook of his arm. “Okay, if you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He jabbed his pen at your textbook. “What are guys learning in class now?”

-

Jackson was bored. His best friend had ditched him for his flatmate. And vice versa, he supposed. How long could someone flop around on a bed and flick a fidget spinner around? He almost wished he had to go in for work today. Even washing dishes sounded better than what he was doing at the moment.

He groaned into his pillow. Why has everyone forsaken me? Honestly Jackson just get your ass up and do something other than faceplanting into the bed.

Pushing himself off the mattress, he stumbled to his feet, still flicking the spinner around. His stomach rumbled. Food,he thought blearily, banging against the doorframe on his way out of the room. “Ow! Fu—whoa, no!” The fidget spinner escaped his grasp and hit the floor sharply, skidding under the door adjacent to his, despite his futile attempts to intercept it with his foot. “Damn!” He stared at the door—Y/N’s door—that he had been forbidden to enter at any time, in any situation. To prove it, there was even a piece of paper stuck to the door announcing the same.

Absently, he laid his palm on the handle, but didn’t turn it. “It’s just a fidget spinner; can’t I just open it real quick, grab it and shut it again? That should be okay, right? I won’t look around.” He chewed his lip, second guessing himself. “Ah, fuck it, I’m practically Y/N’s boyfriend already. There aren’t any secrets to hide.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned the handle, eyes trained to the ground.

The spinner was lying on the ground next to a nightstand. Determinedly not looking around the room, Jackson bent to retrieve the damn thing.

His mistake was looking up as he straightened himself.

His eyes fell on the nightstand. Or rather, the photo framed on it.

His breath hitched. He thought his heart might have stopped beating for a moment.

Within the four wooden pieces stood Y/N. Much younger than now; the photo was clearly old. But Jackson’s eyes were on the young boy standing right beside Y/N.

The fidget spinner clattered to the floor again.

“Hyung!”

A car screeching. The sound of an impending accident, lifelong scars.

Screams.

Was that glass shattering? Or dreams?

Commotion. And cries for a person nobody knew.

“HYUNG!”

Jackson gasped, stumbling back a step, the force the picture exerted too strong for him to handle. His plastic toy dug into his heel and he cursed, the pain momentarily diverting his attention from his pounding heart.

Picking up the spinner, he choked out a ‘this can’t be happening’ before darting out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

He needed air.

What is going on? This can’t be possible.

Does Y/N know that I…no. That can’t be. It just can’t be!

Y/N? Of all people? Y/N wouldn’t do that…

Right?

.

Jackson wasn’t home when you got back.

Good for him, you thought. He’s learned to get out of the house by himself.

You stretched, glad to be back inside away from the heat outside. It was refreshingly cold inside…unsettlingly so. Why was it cold? Or were you imagining it?

Wondering if Jackson had become thoughtful enough to cook, you ventured into the kitchen, but then clicked your tongue disappointedly on seeing everything as you left it. Of course he hadn’t.

Sometime during your attempt at making pasta, the door opened.

“Jackson?” you called out, hoping it was him.

“Yeah?”

“You like pasta, right? Come here and help me.”

You were too occupied with the nearly burning food to notice Jackson’s heartbroken expression, but you did see that he was spacing out really bad. It wasn’t like him to not be bursting into speech animatedly at all times.

“Jackson?” you called for the fourth time, waving a spare hand in front of his face. He jolted.

“Ah, yeah.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shit, sorry. What was that?”

“Could you get some water?” He nodded absently before trudging off to carry out his task. You squinted at him. “Something wrong?” He quickly shook his head. But you knew Jackson enough to know that he was very, very bad at hiding his emotions. “Don’t lie, Jacks. I can see it in your face. What happened?”

He shrugged, his confusion disappearing almost entirely. “I—uh, I sorta did something, but I won’t tell you because you’ll get mad at me.”

You tilted your head. “What did you do?”

He shook his head and pouted, some of the playfulness returning. “You’ll get mad at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Jackson looked at you hard, for a moment or two, then cast his gaze to the floor. “I went into your room today.”

Those words dropped into your head like a bomb. “You what?” You let the fork clatter to the countertop, nearly lunging at him. He caught your arms just in time and held you away from him.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

You huffed loudly, yanking your arms from his grip. “And you said you wouldn’t go inside!”

He held out his hands, blocking you from coming nearer. “It was an accident! My fidget spinner went under your door!”

You scoffed, turning back to the pot on the stove and wishing your room wasn’t a mess. “Still.” All you could think of were the paintings on the walls and the photos. Had he seen them? Would he ask?

“Hmm.” The two of you lapsed into silence for a while. Neither spoke until the pasta was ready and you divided it between the two of you. You sensed that Jackson was itching to say something, but, coward as you were, you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it.

“Um. Y/N?”

You looked up from your bowl, chopsticks faltering. “Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help but notice…that picture on your night stand…”

You froze, quickly setting your chopsticks down to hide your trembling fingers.

“Who is that?”

.

Jackson knew a more accurate question would be ‘Who was that?’ but he didn’t dare to ask. You didn’t know who he was. He hadn’t known who you were until this afternoon.

It hurt him. It hurt him to ask about the boy in the photo so casually, as if nothing had ever happened to him, as if one day he would get to see him again. He knew it would hurt you too. But he had no choice. He couldn’t risk the suspicion that he would rouse. You would demand answers. You would hate him for lying, for hiding who he was and what he had been doing.

He stared guiltily at you, where you sat across from him, clutching the table so hard your knuckles turned pale.

“Does—does it matter that you know who it is?” you choked out, evidently trying not to cry.

Jackson abandoned his own chopsticks and reached out to take your shaking hand in his. “It does. It does to me.”

You nodded, eyes red, staring determinedly anywhere but his face. “That’s…Hanyu. My baby cousin.” He inclined his head, encouraging you to tell him more. Even though he already knew it all. “He stayed in the city in the dorms—you know SOPA?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“He got in and…we were all so proud of him. And since I was already here, his parents weren’t worried about him at all. They—they trusted me.” Your voice broke and so did Jackson’s heart. “And one day, there was an accident. Someone took him to the hospital, but he…he fell into a coma.” Nothing more than a whisper. “Four months.”

He didn’t know he had gotten out of his seat until his arms were wrapped around you.

“There wasn’t anything we could do. He was just—getting worse. Every day. His father finally gave the order after hoping for so long. To—let him go.” You burst into tears and Jackson turned you so you were sobbing into his shoulder. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. They only let him stay because—because I was here. Because I would be there for him.”

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault. It…it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were there for him. Things…these things just happen somehow. It’s not your fault.”

So, it wasn’t you after all?

A huge weight lifted off his chest. He hadn’t realized how much hatred and resentment he’d been carrying around all this time without knowing it.

It wasn’t you.

“How—how are his parents?”

“Not doing good.” You sniffed hard, wiping your tears away. “Not good at all.”

He gripped your shoulders and made you look at him. “What about you?”

He watched helplessly as more tears escaped the corners of your eyes. “Neither am I.”

The last thing you remembered was slumping into Jackson’s arms, drained of energy.

.

You didn’t think you would be telling anyone about Hanyu. You hadn’t told anyone except your psychology professor, who had called you to her office sometime in March because you looked too depressed to be taking your finals. And that too, was reluctant. You knew you should talk to someone about it, you knew you should be accompanying his parents to the therapist you forced them to see, but—maybe it was the prolonged blow that lessened the pain to a dull throb. Hope had ebbed away bit by bit, not all at once.

But talking about him to Jackson was so simple. It was almost as if he understood exactly what you were going through. Almost as if Hanyu was his own brother.

You wondered if Jackson had lost someone dear to him in the past. Maybe he had. That would explain the sudden compassion he had towards you now. You hadn’t told him everything, just the brief story, but he didn’t press further.

He’s sweet, you realized all too late. He really is.

-

You’d think you would be free of your flatmate at least when you went to work on weekends. Jackson was the last person who would willingly enter a library—at least, without an emergency. But no, there he was, still blowing up your phone about how he slipped in the bathroom and thinks he broke his butt, and then found that his ramen was finished so he couldn’t eat (despite there being like, healthy food somewhere in the fridge) and therefore begging you to buy some on your way home because he couldn’t go (due to the broken butt). You were rolling your eyes at the messages, but an endearing smile still crept across your lips.

“Boyfriend?” Daniel crashed his wheely chair into yours, peeking over your shoulder at your phone. You winced at his knobbly shoulder and turned off the screen.

“No.” You shoved his chair away.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

Daniel looked confused. “…Partner?”

Wah. What an open-minded king. “No, Kang. Just my flatmate.”

“What?” He scrunched up his nose. “No way. I saw how you were looking at their texts.”

You screeched. “What the heck?” He seemed satisfied at your reaction.

“So, crush?” he confirmed, sniggering at the blush that crept up your neck. “Who is it? Give me their number, I’ll set y’all up.”

“For the love of—”

“Y/N!”

You looked up, startled, to see Jinyoung standing on the other side of the counter. You straightened up, tensing; you had been sort of avoiding him for a while.

“Sunbae.” He pursed his lips at you in a disapproving stare.

“Where have you been? Do I have to come all the way to the public library to see my junior?” He crossed his arms. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“It’s—it’s not like that, sunbae—”

“Don’t say anything. Jackson’s been telling me about his broken ass—” You flinched, eyes darting to Daniel, who for sure misinterpreted that phrase, “—and that you’re ignoring him. What happened?”

“Oh, Y/N’s flatmate?”

Fucking hell, Daniel. Please learn to shut up.

He was sporting a shit-eating grin. “Y/N’s got a crush.”

Jinyoung’s lips immediately curled upward and you waved your arms around, banging them together in an ‘X’. “No. No, I don’t have a crush!”

“You know it’s okay, right?” Your senior reassured you. “He likes you, too.”

Oh.

Wait, what?

“Huh?” The disbelief was evident in your voice. Jinyoung shrugged, a smug little smile on his face.

“Jackson’s my best friend, Y/N. I know him. He tells me things.” He set a book down on the counter in front of Daniel, who obediently took it and scanned it for him. “And I also know he doesn’t have the balls to tell you anything. So, my question is, what are you going to do about it?”

What am I going to do about it? An idea popped into your head and you blurted it out before you could stop yourself. “I’ll tell Jackson I like him when you tell him—what was he called? JB, that you like him.”

Jinyoung’s face paled. “What?”

Now you were the smug one. “You heard me, you hypocrite. Confess to your crush and I’ll confess to mine.”

He squinted at you, clearly plotting his next move. “Fine,” he retorted, sticking his nose in the air haughtily. “I will.”

-

“You still texting Jinyoungie, huh?” Jackson teased, the pout very much audible in his voice. You looked up from your phone. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “Dude, when will you get over him ditching you? You know damn well he’s drowning in his love for your other friend—who? JB.”

Jackson tensed a little, but you didn’t seem to notice. “I know,” he breathed out. “JB hyung is so oblivious. So is Jinyoungie.”

“Besides,” you continued, tilting your head coyly, “Jinyoung sunbae says you’ve got a crush on me.”

The way Jackson spluttered at that was hilarious. “Wha—Me? Crush on you? As if.”

“Sure, sure.” You turned back to your phone. Jackson sat down heavily next to you, plopping his head on your lap. You peered under your screen to look at him. “Hello. What are you doing?”

“Pay attention to me.” You chuckled at the whine in his tone. “You don’t talk to me anymore.” He grasped your hand and placed it on his head. You began stroking his freshly dyed strands. You would never admit it but you liked his hair blond.

“Are you going to dye it back?”

He shifted, getting comfortable. “Probably not soon. Why? Don’t you like it?” He sat up, twisting to face you, horrified. “Do I look bad as a blond?”

You leaned back, laughing. “Stop being so dramatic, Jackson!”

Two knocks on the front door and then it opened. You jolted at the sight of Jinyoung staring between the two of you in that position. Jackson turned to follow your gaze and yelled in surprise. Slowly, Jinyoung raised a hand to cover his eyes.

“Yah!” Jackson shouted, the sheer volume causing your ears to pop. “It’s not like that!”

-

As Christmas came and went, your heart grew heavier and heavier. For several reasons. On the one hand, you were crushing hard on your flatmate like some dumb romcom cliché. On the other, that date was approaching you like a truck at eighty an hour with broken brakes.

A year to the day of the accident.

You knew, technically, that Hanyu only passed away in April, but this was truly the day you lost him. Truly the day that something was lost inside you. Something that you may never fully find again…

“Hey, Y/N, you see this?” Jackson bounded over to you holding up a snow globe and shaking it enthusiastically.

…but perhaps, one day, you would.

Your eyes softened as you watched Jackson’s infectious smile bloomed. Would he agree to come with me? He does know about Hanyu, after all.

“Jackson?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah?” He looked up and caught your expression.

“Would you come to a place with me if I asked?”

He tilted his head. “Where?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “The funeral home.” As his face fell, you continued, “It’s almost a year to the day of…the accident.”

“Ah. It is, isn’t it?” He searched your eyes. “Are you sure about this? About me…coming with you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think…I think it would be good. If I had someone to talk to about it. And also haul me home. I’m probably…gonna be a mess.”

Jackson reached out, hesitantly to grip your shoulder tight before drawing your closer for an embrace. “It’s okay,” he said, sounding a little unsure himself. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

-

It was just an ordinary cold Saturday when you and Jackson left the apartment to get groceries at the supermarket. When you two were arguing over ramen, you heard a shout.

“Hey, Jackson!”

Both of you turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man stroll over. Jackson straightened immediately. An odd sort of feeling crept up your neck.

He seems familiar. Have I seen him—

You gasped silently.

That’s Jaebeom. How could I forget him?

“Jackson, man, where have you been?” the man asked, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

Your flatmate looked quite uncomfortable. “Guess I got busy, hyung. Sorry.”

You had to speak. “Excuse me? You’re—Im Jaebeom…right?”

Jackson quickly intervened. “This is my flatmate, hyung.”

The man turned his focus to you, narrowing his eyes curiously, before they widened in recognition. “Oh!” He pointed at you. You wouldn’t deny you were surprised he remembered you from almost a year ago. “You’re that...Y/N. Right? From the hospital?” He faltered at the mention of it. “Ah…um. How is he?”

Your heart clenched painfully, but you forced a smile. “He, uh, passed away. In April.” Jaebeom winced at the news.

“Ah, I’m really sorry.”

You waved it away. “No, no, don’t be. You have my eternal gratitude for getting him to the ER. I don’t know how many people would have done that.”

He inclined his head, fidgeting uncomfortably for a moment. “Still…yah, Jackson-ah, you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You turned to Jackson curiously. “Hm?” He was pale, staring at Jaebeom with helplessness in his eyes.

“Ah, you two met there?” Jaebeom asked, contemplating. “When did you guys talk?”

You were confused, not seeing the sharp looks of ‘please-stop-talking’ that Jackson was shooting his friend. “Sorry, what? Met where?”

It was Jaebeom’s turn to look confused. “At the hospital, of course.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, because you didn’t know where this was headed. “Why would I meet Jackson at the hospital?”

“Hyung!” Jackson interjected suddenly. Suspiciously. Moving his body in between yours and Jaebeom’s. “I think maybe we should finish up our shopping and meet later—”

“No, tell me, Jaebeom-ssi.” You put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

Jaebeom was at a loss. He didn’t seem to understand Jackson’s panic, and neither could you. “Jackson was with me at the hospital when we brought him in. We brought him together. I thought he met you there when you came.”

You inhaled sharply, glancing at Jackson with surprise in your eyes. “Jackson.” He flinched, remaining quiet. “Is that true?”

“Hyung, I’ll come over later,” he told Jaebeom quietly, pushing him away. His friend took a step back, wondering why on earth something so simple—good news, in fact—turned awry. He bowed, mumbling out a greeting before he picked up his shopping basket and turned away.

You were shocked beyond words.

Jackson took Hanyu to the hospital. Jackson knew who he was. Jackson knew who you were. What did this mean? Was he tracking you? Was he tracking anyone with connections to Hanyu? Is that why he asked about him and his parents?

“Y/N…”

You suddenly didn’t want to hear anything. Your feet carried you after Jaebeom, calling his name.

-

Jackson was fucked.

Why, he screamed at himself, didn’t you tell Y/N the truth as soon as you found out about it? Why, why, why? Can you blame Y/N for not listening to you? You fucking lied, Jackson!

You hadn’t come back to the apartment until past midnight after running off to talk to JB. He’d waited up for you, but you didn’t spare anything a glance before locking yourself in your room. He’d wanted to call you, wanted to make sure you were okay, but he’d already done enough damage. Were you even willing to talk to him at all? He decided he didn’t want to test it. For all he knew, you thought he was some sort of creep or a stalker or something. You probably hated him.

He fell asleep that night to the sound of you crying from the other side of the wall.

-

Unease. You didn’t know why you were feeling so unsettled. It was a bright cloudless day but you weren’t sharing the spirit. In fact, you were spacing out so much that your partner for your Statistics project had to keep snapping his fingers in front of your face to bring your focus back to him.

“Sorry, Gyeom,” you muttered wearily. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Maybe you should go home. I’ll finish up around here.”

“Ah, no.” You shook your head. “I’ll be fine. Let’s finish this.” But your phone was ringing, the caller ID displaying an unknown number. You frowned. “Hello?”

“Excuse me, is this Jia Hanyu’s emergency contact?”

You froze. This wasn’t a voice you knew. Emergency contact? Why—why would they—who…?

“Um. Y-yes?” You were already shaking. Yugyeom looked at you in alarm.

“We need you to come to the General Hospital immediately. There has been an accident.”

A click. You stared at your phone, heart racing, trembling all over. “Oh my god. Oh my god, what do I do? What do I do?” Yugyeom seized your shoulders and forced you down from growing hysteria.

“What. Happened.” His voice was steady enough that you responded the same way.

“General Hospital.”

“I’ll take you there.”

The drive to the hospital was wrought with tension. You could only think of the worst and you were crying by the time you got there, despite Yugyeom’s attempts to calm you down. You let him drag you through the reception and you desperately asked for Jia Hanyu, to be ushered—alone—into the ER. The last thing you remembered seeing was Yugyeom’s reassuring smile before you turned a corner out of sight.

You nearly bumped into a man on his phone in your daze and hastily apologized, but he neither seemed to notice or care.

The talk with the doctor was less than reassuring, however. You signed whatever they thrust at you to get his surgery started and then demanded to know who brought him in.

“Hello,” the young man greeted you politely, his clothes still stained red. He was looking at you carefully as if you would break down any moment.

You forced a wobbly smile. “Thank you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper, but he caught it.

“It was the least we could do,” he replied. Your knees suddenly gave way and you sank into a chair.

“Tell me what happened to him,” you pleaded.

And he told you about the car that came speeding out of nowhere although the signal was red. If you were in your right mind, you might have heard the anger in his voice. It hadn’t been the kid’s fault then. Tears slipped out of the corner of your eyes.

Your gaze rested on his soiled clothes. “I’ll—I’ll replace those,” you said weakly, gesturing to his attire. “They’re ruined.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you don’t have to.” He knelt in front of you. “Are you okay? That’s what matters.”

You nodded, sniffling. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You didn’t know why you were attempting the brave front. “You didn’t tell me your name yet. How can I be grateful if I don’t know your name?”

He chuckled under his breath. “My name is Im Jaebeom.”

“Y/N.”

He squeezed your hands. “He’ll be fine, you know.”

“I know. That doesn’t make things any easier.”

“Doesn’t it?”

The two of you sat there in silence before you remembered that this was a person, he probably had plans interrupted, he must need to get home. Reluctantly, he stood to leave, but only after making sure you would be okay.

“And—” you grabbed his wrist. “Yugyeom—he’s sitting out there in reception. Tell him—tell him to go home and that I’ll be fine. Please?”

He nodded. Left.

You broke down completely. And you thought that would be the worst to happen.

You weren’t bargaining on the mess that would happen the next day.

You never thought he wouldn’t wake up.

-

The apartment fell silent in a way that you never thought would be possible after Jackson moving in. There was always noise in it; but no longer. Several of your neighbours had even asked if Jackson had moved out. What were you supposed to tell them? No, he didn’t move out, I just found out he’s a liar and I’m trying to cope with that by ignoring him and he’s too scared to approach me?

In truth, you weren’t totally mad at him or worried that he would be a stalker. After talking things over with Jaebeom, you’d concluded that Jackson hadn’t seen you that day at the hospital (Jaebeom recalled he’d gone to make a call or something). So the first time he saw you really was at the apartment. And that’s why he was so curious about the picture. That’s when he’d known.

But why hide it from you?

-

“Y/N!” You weren’t sure if socializing was a good idea at the moment, but when you bumped into Jinyoung at the coffee shop down the street, you didn’t push him away. He joined the line at the counter right after you.

“Hello, sunbae.” The smile you put on definitely didn’t reach your eyes, but Jinyoung didn’t comment. Most college students had the same problem.

“I did it.” He told you smugly.

“Did what?”

“I told JB hyung that I liked him.”

Despite the inner turmoil you’d been going through for the past few days, you gasped. “Wait, what? Seriously?” He nodded, clearly brimming with glee, bouncing up and down on his heels like a giddy child just given sweets.

“He’s here, I want you to meet him.” He gestured to a table a short distance away. You saw the top of a head and smiled.

“I’d love to.”

He grinned, eyes crinkling. “Thanks, uh, for encouraging me to.”

You let out a laugh. “Um, you’re welcome? I didn’t really think you’d do it; I only said that to get you off my back about Jackson.” And as soon as the name rolled off your lips, your heart sank.

Jinyoung must have sensed the distress in your expression, because he asked, “Are you okay? Did you guys fight again?”

“I guess you could say that.” After placing your orders, you followed him to their table, eager to meet this JB hyung you’d heard so much about.

You saw the man break into a wide smile on seeing Jinyoung return, but the moment you came within his line of sight, his face fell in surprise. So did yours.

“Y/N?” he asked, incredulous.

“Jaebeom?” You were in equal disbelief. A moment of silence passed when you two looked at each other and Jinyoung back and forth between.

“You guys know each other?” Jinyoung questioned. “Ah, did Jackson introduce you? I thought you and Jackson weren’t talking, hyung.”

“This is your JB hyung?” You laughed.

Jaebeom looked sheepish. “My friends call me that.”

Jinyoung was just sitting there next to you, across from Jaebeom, confused. Jaebeom decided to take pity on him.

“Nyoung, you remember I told you that Jackson and I took a kid to the hospital? Last year?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the car accident.”

Your chest felt tight. “That was my cousin.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait, what?” His eyes darted around, thinking. “And…Jackson knew who you were?”

You shook your head. “I met Jaebeom-ssi at the hospital that evening, but I didn’t see Jackson. He didn’t know I was the emergency contact until a month ago or something. But he didn’t tell me he was the one who took Hanyu to the hospital. I only found out a week ago when we bumped into Jaebeom-ssi at the supermarket.”

Jinyoung sat there, stunned. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me any of this.”

“He told me everything a few days ago,” Jaebeom interjected. “But he made me promise not to tell anyone.” He leaned forward and stared at you. “You’re still not talking to him, are you?”

You lowered your head in guilt. “I want to. It’s just—he lied to me and I don’t know why. I want to talk to him, but I just—don’t know how to break the silence.”

“His heart’s…in the right place,” Jaebeom assured you. “Honestly, I don’t think even he knows why he hid it from you.”

“I think I might know,” Jinyoung said softly. Both of you turned to look at him.

“I thought he didn’t tell you anything.”

“Not the recent stuff,” he agreed, “but he did tell me what happened last year.” He searched your eyes, probably wondering how to put things into words. “Did Jackson tell you that he visited Hanyu at the hospital?”

You stilled. “He—he visited Hanyu?”

Your senior nodded. “He went nearly every week to check up on him, to see if there was any progress.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “What?”

Jaebeom glanced over at his boyfriend, biting his lip nervously. “I think Jackson should be the one explaining all this.” Jinyoung looked sufficiently chastised.

“I’m just saying that might be the reason,” he hastily said. “He was really…devastated when he passed, you know. Came to me bawling his eyes out. I really didn’t know what to do.”

“Where was I during all this?” Jaebeom questioned.

“Japan, I think. But Y/N, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at him,” your senior advised. “I can understand that. But, you know, hear him out. I’ll talk to him if you want. He’s not a bad guy.”

You inclined your head. “I understand. I’ll—I’ll listen to what he has to say.”

-

You went back that afternoon, heart in your throat.

What do I tell him? What do I say? How do I break this silence?

-

You waited.

The clock struck ten, then eleven.

Twelve.

You fidgeted with your phone, anxiety seeping through you. Where was he?

Should I call him? Would that be—ah, never mind. Why should I be the one to patch this up? I didn’t do anything wrong! He’s the one who should apologize. Why isn’t he here?

An hour later, you weren’t thinking about the politics of your troubles. You were worried now, very much so. You tried to call him, but his phone was switched off. Had he run away somewhere? What was going on? Should you call the police?

It was past one thirty when an unknown number called you. You stared at your phone, heart pounding, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Not again, you thought desperately. Please not again.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s me. Jaebeom.” He didn’t waste any time. “Jackson’s with me; I figured you would be worried.”

You sunk into the sofa cushions, a hand over your heart. Oh, thank heaven. “He—he’s with you?”

“Yeah, he—uh, I’m guessing he went out by himself because he’s drunk out of his mind. Came knocking at my door a while ago.”

You didn’t know what to think. “Ah. I tried calling him, but…”

“Oh, his phone’s dead.” You heard muffled noises on the other end. “I wanted to call you sooner, but I had to find your number from his wallet.”

“His…his wallet?”

“Yeah, you’re his emergency contact. He has your info written down on a piece of paper.”

“Oh.” Your voice sounded very small. “I see.”

He cleared his throat. “Um, he’s asleep now, but I’ll send him over tomorrow after his hangover’s gone down.”

“Ah. Yes. Thank you, Jaebeom-ssi.” You paused, about to hang up.

“Wait, uh, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Jaebeom sounded hesitant. “Okay, I’m…I’m not as great with words as Jinyoung is, but…um, I think you should know that Jackson is a good guy. Like, I know he may have hidden some things from you, but he wasn’t trying to, like, hurt you or anything.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “I know.”

“He was crying, you know.” Jaebeom made an uncomfortable noise, as if he didn’t know how to proceed from there. “When he showed up here. I couldn’t understand what he wanted to say, but I heard your name. He really cares about you, yeah? Even if—even if he doesn’t tell you.”

You nodded slowly, before remembering that he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I—I understand.”

There was a brief awkward pause, before he coughed. “So, um, yeah. You should…probably sleep. Good night.”

“Right. Good night.”

You silently set your phone down and put your head in your hands. When did all this become so complicated? Why was it so difficult? I guess it’s my fault for not listening to him or giving him a chance to explain. Do I just wait for him to come back? What do I say?

-

The sun rose bleakly on the next morning.

You awoke to the jarring sound of the alarm ringing in an empty, silent apartment.  Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you sighed, going through everything that happened a year ago, a month ago, a week ago. Wondering how things had escalated to this. It’s better not to overthink about it. When he comes back, we’ll either talk it out or fight it out.

Around ten, Jaebeom shot you a text informing you that he’d sent Jackson back.

You sat on the sofa, giving you a view of the front door. You would wait. Waste no time. Just get it over with. You were vaguely aware of your heartbeat in mild panic state.

At last, someone knocked, tried the door and opened it.

Jackson’s gaze fell on your stoic expression and he flinched. Slowly stepping in and removing his shoes making as little noise as possible, he stood in the doorway for a moment before sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

Neither of you spoke.

You sensed him fumbling with his fingers, itching to say something.  

“I went to see him.”

You didn’t respond. He took your silence as invitation to continue.

“Every week. I—I don’t know why, to be honest. I just…” He shook his head. “I just felt some sort of attachment to him. I wanted him to get better. I really did.”

Your heart ached at his words. How could you be angry for this? For his compassion?

“When I went the day after he…” he broke off. “When I went, I was told…the news. And I didn’t know how to take it. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t believe that anyone would give up on him.” He drew in a deep breath, still clearly anxious at your silence. “Deep down I guess I knew that there was nothing we could do and it was easier to…end his suffering, but…I didn’t want to accept it, I guess. I know that sounds silly, but—”

“It’s not silly.”

He paused, hesitant. Your voice was rough from lack of use.

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I…I shouldn’t have, but I think I just put my resentment on whoever his emergency contact was, you know? I guess I figured they made the decision.” You felt tears beginning to form but your blinked them away. “I really didn’t know it was you. Or that you weren’t—”

“I know, Jackson.” You finally looked up at him. He was on the edge of his seat, worried but hopeful. “The boys told me everything. I just wish you hadn’t lied.”

“So do I,” he said sincerely.

The two of you stared at each other, not saying anything. Jackson seemed ready for an outburst, a single sentence that you weren’t going to forgive him.

“Why would you do that, though?” You spat, slamming your hand down onto the cushions. Jackson jumped, startled.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, I didn’t think—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn’t come home last night?”

“—find out…wait, what?” He was dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“I was this close to calling the police, you know that? I don’t even know how many gods I thanked when Jaebeom called saying you had crashed at his place. Why do you have to go and get drunk, huh? Why do you have to put yourself in danger like that?”

Jackson visibly relaxed, a small smile breaking across his lips. “I’m so sorry. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“You’re so stupid.” And you stretched your arms out for a hug. He melted into it, holding you tight so he’d never let you go. “He would have loved you, too,” you murmured into his shoulder.

He drew back, eyes uncharacteristically serious. That was a grand statement you had just made. But you weren’t going to withdraw that. You knew it was true.

“Does-does that mean you—love me?” Jackson spluttered, blotches of red forming on his cheeks. And then you realized exactly what you had said.

“What? No,” you retorted defensively, pushing him away. “What are you talking about? I never said anything like that.” And then you jumped up to run away, squirming out of his firm grasp. His fingers found your sides and you burst out gasping.

Laughter rung through the still apartment.

There was happiness again.

-

“Hyung, you called Y/N yesterday?”

“Yeah, I did. You think your flatmate wouldn’t be worried about you?”

“What did you say?”

“Ha. I didn’t say anything. Why? Should I have told Y/N you were saying “I love you” in your sleep?”

-

“Yeah, Jinyoung, I’ll be there, don’t worry so much,” you spoke into the phone you balanced on your shoulder. Your hands were busy washing out the dishes you’d used for lunch. “How’s Jaebeom doing?” You hummed as your senior (now graduated, big whoop, whatever, ugh) went into an explanation on how his boyfriend’s cat woke them up yowling at three in the morning because she got herself stuck on top of the display cabinet and he couldn’t go back to sleep.

“Is Jackson there?” he asked you. You wiped your hands hastily on a washcloth before taking your phone in your hand and stepping over to the window.

“No, he had a morning shift,” you informed him. “He was supposed to be here by now, come to think of it.” You glanced out, wondering where he might be.

“Ah, okay. Remind him to come tomorrow, too.” Jinyoung paused. “Wait, is it a good idea to bring Jacks? Do you think he’ll be too loud? I don’t want to blow this—”

“Jinyoung, relax,” you reassured. “Jaebeom’s parents already love you, I don’t see why you’re so afraid—”

“That’s when we were just friends!” He cried, panic evident in his tone. “I don’t even know what they’ll say about this!”

Your phone made a funny beeping noise. “Jinyoung, you’ll be fine. I promise you. I’ll call you back, okay? I’m getting another call.” You hung up on him to see an unknown number calling. Without thinking twice, you answered. “Hello?”

“Excuse me, is this Jackson Wang’s emergency contact?”

-