There was a time when I was good at comforting people. I felt their pain as if it were my own. I would reach out to ease it and carry its burden. I cried for their grief and laughed for their joy. That brought me nothing but the loss of everyone I cherished and the exile I found myself in. The lack of empathy and understanding that the world showed me became a virus that I caught along the way, making me just as cold and selfish as the world wanted me to be.

So, the heavy tears failed to tackle my heart. The looming fear of loss that clouded her eyes did not provoke any kind of reaction besides the one I forced myself to array. Nevertheless, I couldn't bring myself to rebuke my long-gone conscience. I had been given no time to prepare for the loss of the person I loved more than myself. I only had time to mourn the distance they had put between us from behind an iron door and within four gray walls. But I never had the chance to hold her hand one last time. I never got the chance to hug her goodbye, and most importantly, I never got the chance to convince her that her life mattered to me, that her presence in my world was worth my freedom—or lack thereof. Had I been given the chance that Inaya Chen was given now, I would have told her that a prison sentence eventually comes to an end and that we can only fight the injustice of a cruel world if we are together and not separated by life and death.

Maybe that's why I couldn't feel sorry for the woman who stormed out of the restaurant barefoot, leaving behind her purse, which I collected along with her coat and shoes, forcing myself to plaster some kind of emotion—any kind—on my face as I ran after her and grabbed her by the wrist to stop her a block away from my car. The street was teeming with delivery trucks unloading goods to restaurants. The smell of fish permeated the chilly air, mingling with scents ranging from coffee to grilled meat. A typical fall afternoon that had taken a very atypical turn. When I read Chul's message, I knew exactly what news she had received on the other end of the line. Inaya couldn't get a single word out. She didn't even breathe for a second as she let the phone slip from her hand and drop to the floor. When she turned to me before she sprinted, her face was so pale I thought she was going to faint. I wished she would. I wished she'd miss the opportunity to be by his side the way I'd missed my last chance to be with Lana. Cruel. I know, but such is life.

Such is the fate they've consigned me to.

"Let go of me!" she screamed with bloodshot eyes and heavy breathing. She struggled against my grip, but it was all futile and weak, and I hated it. I hated how pathetic, scared and miserable she looked. I hated that I noticed. I hated that I felt enraged by the fact that she was panicking over something that wasn't so serious, while I was the prime example of someone who had been dealt the card of death.

Most of all, I hated how, despite our differences, we looked very much alike at this instant.

I knelt down and held her foot to help her into her shoes. She was whimpering loudly now and I forced myself to get up and ask her what had happened, even though I knew exactly the reason for this violent breakdown. "You can't just walk off like that without your shoes and coat. It's freezing," I scolded, draping her coat over her shoulders. She buried her face in her palms and let the pained sobs break through her throat. So raw. So real. So scared. "I don't know what's going on, but there's no way I'm leaving you to deal with it alone," I whispered as I wrapped my arm around her slender form. She was shaking so much that she didn't fight it. And as she cried in my embrace, barely formulating coherent words, I smiled.

"Songhuan University Hospital; I have to get there before it's too late." She pleaded. Her small fists clutched the lapels of my vest so fiercely, as if the grip would freeze time and turn back the hands of the clock so she could gain a minute or two before everything dissolved into a murky past and a bleak future.

But I was late, so it was only fair for him to feel what tardiness meant in these vital situations — the searing pain of a missed goodbye.

"If I see you here again, Taehyung, I will make sure this time you rot in prison for good; do you understand?"

"Do you really think you can threaten me with a good time, Yoongi? I'm a dead man walking—all thanks to you. Whether I spend my days in a cell or out here, it's all the same. So, for the last time, where did you bury Lana?"

"A scum like you don't deserve to know. This is my last warning—your last chance, and I'm only giving it for my sister's sake. Disappear, Taehyung. Grab your shit and leave this country before I turn your life into a living hell."

"You already did. What more could you do after tearing us apart? You're the reason Lana is dead, Yoongi. And I will never forgive you. You'll pay for the way you came between us, and I'll make sure the price is so high your life won't even cover it."

"I'm not counting on your fucking forgiveness to sleep soundly, Taehyung. If there's one thing that helps me sleep at night is that you weren't in her life in her last days. A filthy, greedy bastard like you was never fit for my sister. You were a mistake, a stain in her life. But make no mistake. I won't let you stain her memory as well."

I broke off the embrace with a frown I managed to plaster on my face. It was morbid, the way I surfed between the waves of so many emotions, how they were all real. It was frightening. I had lost my humanity, that much was clear. It was a shame that I could no longer tell the difference between innocents and monsters. But that was the by-product of fucking up a person beyond limits. She had life to blame for my lack of sincerity.

She had her lover to blame as well.

"Let's go. I'll take you there." I announced.

I intertwined our hands as I led us to my car. Her hand was so cold and sweaty, paired with her pale face, I feared she'd end up in a state worse than that motherfucker. I blasted the heater as I hurried to the hospital she'd asked me to take her to. It was a hospital near the correctional facility. The second option if the prison infirmary couldn't handle the case. I didn't know who was behind what had happened to Min Yoongi, but I was still pleased with their deed nonetheless. I liked to believe that it was a karmic payment.

It only took us fifteen minutes to reach our destination. I parked the car outside the hospital and tossed the keys to an annoyed security guard who had shit to say about how I was blocking the path of ambulances. Yep, I went that far. I made it regal — a nailed-down scene of someone genuinely concerned.

Inaya raced through the wards, stopping every nurse she came across to ask where she could find the reason for her demise. I ran after her until I managed to catch her wrist and stop her steps. "The receptionist will give you the answer you need." I directed her to the desk and watched as she continued her sprint in that direction.

The words were stuttered as her tears hindered her ability to speak to the receptionist. "Min Yoongi. He was brought in from Seoul Men's Jail due to severe trauma. I-please- just tell me where I can see him."

The receptionist quickly checked and gave the magical answer. "Third ward on the left."

But the answer wasn't magical enough. Because standing outside the door that separated Inaya from the scumbag were two correctional officers who immediately stopped her in her tracks. "Visits are not allowed."

"I'm his girlfriend; I have the right to see him and be by his side." She gasped. Her chest swelled with anger and worry. Her eye makeup slid down her cheeks in trails. The hair she'd obviously styled for our meeting this morning was now all over the place from the multiple times she tugged at it. And as I stood right behind her, where she couldn't see my face and the expression on it while I still had my eyes on her every expression, I realized that her state disturbed me. I wouldn't say it annoyed me, but it came close. Or maybe so far from it — I didn't know. But I did know that seeing her like this contributed to my hatred of her so-called boyfriend. Such a vile person who hurt everyone around him, whether intentionally or not.

"He's an inmate. If you want to visit him, you'll have to do it at the correctional facility." The officer held his hand in front of her in a halting motion, and inwardly, I dared him to touch her. Now, this woman was my bridge, alright, but I wouldn't allow anyone to walk over her. He looked over her head at me, and I had reasons to believe that he saw the interpretation of my silent words in the glare I offered him.

"He's also a human being who has rights, for fuck's sake!" Her sobs were a bitter reminder of the past. Disgusting, loud and triggering. They made it so that she didn't hear me when I called her name. Once, twice, and when I called for the third time, hinting at my desperation and boredom with a sigh and still getting no response from her as she kept shouting her rights to meet her man, I pulled her to my chest by her wrist, resting her face on my chest, and dealing with the tears that stained my white shirt and seeped into my skin. I hated tears. I had parted ways with them a long time ago. They dried up when an emotion stronger than sadness took the reins. So her tears burned my skin. Appalled my senses. I wanted them to dry just as mine did. But when she muttered my name in that broken voice, all shaky and full of fear, I realized I could handle watching Yoongi's tears until they dried from something we would soon share: Grief.

"Taehyung - I - if something happens to him — Taehyung, I can't."

"Shh. Nothing will happen." I let my fingers disappear into her midnight curls, caressing her sorrows, easing her fears. Her hair was soft—so soft, I could feel it awakening my numbness. I pulled back, picked up my phone, and dialed the commissioner's number to allow her to do what they had forbidden me from doing.

"Commissioner, I need permission to visit an inmate. Yes, that's right. Family member. Sure." I handed the phone to the correctional officer, who looked at me and the phone as if we were aliens. Hesitantly, he held the phone to his ear, and all he managed to utter was a hushed as per your orders, sir.

He opened the door, and Inaya didn't wait a second before rushing into the room. She didn't turn around and look at me. I hadn't expected her to. The door remained open, a silent order I gave the officers and which they obeyed without arguing. It gave me an unsettling pleasure to see Min Yoongi handcuffed to the bed, unable to return her embrace. I basked in his despair. I reveled in his agonized expression as he watched her cry, unable to wipe away her tears or bring back her smile. He closed his eyes, unable to witness the result of his actions and the pain it was causing to someone he was supposed to be protecting. No worries. He would continue to inflict pain, I would see to that. And I would kiss it all better. I would make sure that her smile became his pain too, and not just her suffering.

The roles are reversed now, Yoongi.

"Don't interrupt her, unless you want to kiss that uniform goodbye," I warned the officer, pressing a wad of money into his hand. "When she's done, tell her I'm waiting outside."

I was done with the bright lights of the hospital and the smell of despair that lingered in the air. The air was stale. Warm, like the tears you shed when you learn that the person you can't live without has broken their promise and left you alone to carry on with this thing called life. I didn't want to be in such a place, so I took firm steps as I turned my back to that room. Every step was taken with the intention to watch the movie I had written and directed from a distance. I pulled a cigarette from the pack before reaching the door, and as the icy breeze made its way to my lungs, I lit it, ignoring the no smoking sign attached to the wall for the first time in years. When the stares of the patients and their families turned hostile, I made my way to the car, and before I could unlock it, my phone buzzed.

"How did you like my gift, Tae?" Seokjin's serious tone filtered through the speaker before I could say a word.

"What gift? Wait, you didn't."

"Oh, I did too."

"Why the fuck are you meddling in my business, huh?" Spit flew out of my mouth as I screamed every word. It was a combination of several things that set me off. One was his smugness, the other was the overstimulation that today's events had caused me.

"I gave her an incentive. I've given you a window to use when no one opens the door you're knocking on. You'll thank me when you will give yourself the time to think about it." Seokjin remained unimpressed by my reaction. His voice was as always: firm, confident, high enough to be heard, but low enough to reflect his you-are-all-peasants attitude.

I straightened my posture and released a deep breath, lowering my voice as I did. "I don't climb windows, Seokjin. I break down the doors that refuse to be opened."

"Would you rather meet your son or waste time breaking down hinged doors? I think we both know the answer, so I'll spare you the trouble of saying it. Take care of the lady and come to the basement when you're done. You know she's of no use if you don't tend to her wounds, don't you?"

I ended the call, ready to slam the car hood until my knuckles bled the contents of my body's fuel. But I didn't, and there were two reasons that stopped me. One, he was right. I mean, just an hour ago, I was grateful to whoever the fuck had done this to Yoongi. I shouldn't be too pitiful to hate him now that I figured out it was my partner. Pride at the wrong time was nothing but hypocrisy. I hated hypocrisy. The second was her voice.

"Mr. Kim!"

I wouldn't be a fat liar here and say that her voice wasn't as soft as her luscious hair. A soothing octave. An acapella that needed no written lyrics. But that wasn't the only reason I hid my anger and conjured my neutral expression. I had a part to play, and I'd be damned if I fucked up the performance.

"I thought we were on a first-name basis now." I smothered the mood, keen to knock down her guard now that the opportunity presented itself. "Is he feeling better?" I suppressed the distance between us, inspecting her features and portraying a worried expression that came so easily I would have considered giving up my career to pursue acting if I hadn't known it wasn't all an act. I was worried about her. In my own sick and selfish way, I didn't want this woman to get hurt. She didn't deserve it. Even damaged goods like me could recognize good folks. She was one of them. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," she curled her arms around her torso— a protective stance. "Thank you. I really mean it. I wouldn't have been able to be with him without your help. I also wanted to apologize for messing up your schedule. You didn't even get a chance to eat. I'm sorry."

"Get in the car, Miss Chen," I said with a smile as I opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat. "You saved me from endless meetings. I should be the one thanking you. And as for lunch, you owe me one now. I eat my lunch at twelve on the dot. Fridays are hectic at the Seolleontang place. Wednesdays are perfect."

As I revved the engine, she hopped into the passenger seat: "Seolleongtang next Wednesday it is then."

I looked at her, and this time I really looked. If she was unsettled by the way I looked at her with an unsubtle grin that could be translated in many ways, she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled at me. I shook my head and turned my eyes on the road as we left the parking lot. At that moment, I made a promise I knew I wouldn't break. I will take your Wednesday, Inaya Chen; the rest of your days will follow suit. A man's word.

remember, this is a slow burn. Votes and comments are appreciated <3