"I don't know what you're gonna do without me," Seungri rolled his eyes. He removed the wet cloth from Jiyong's forehead to check the temperature with the back of his hand. "Aren't you supposed to be the one baby-ing me?"

Jiyong chuckled, the earth was moving beneath him eventhough he lay on his bed. His blood was cold and hot and cold again within minutes. "You have to give up that personal nurse obsession."

"Said someone who worship a nurse painting," Seungri's voice drifting in and out of Jiyong's mind.

"It's not just a painting, Seungri."

"Are you giving me art lecture?"

"Yes."

"You're talking to the wrong Seunghyun then."

Jiyong's hand roamed the sheet to find Seungri's. He loved the way Seungri's pulse quickened when he held his wrist. If he could open his eyes, he'd see Seungri's eyes widened. To the thought, he smiled.

He loved that.

He knew he would always do.

"You're smiling," Seungri's forehead came to rest on his chest. "Something funny?"

Jiyong thought of the butterflies in his stomach when Seungri came home. The way his lips pouted as he scolded Jiyong for smoking again. I was just gone for a day, hyung, Seungri's voice was stern. And you had gotten sick.

Through his half-lided eyes, he had seen Seungri stacked up the papers on the carpet. The floor moved beneath his feet like water when Seungri dragged him to the bed.

I didn't know I was sick, Jiyong muttered when Seungri asked why he didn't tell anyone he's running fever. Seungri came up with pills, wet towel and a small bin he picked from the corner of Jiyong's room.

I'll stick around to make sure you won't touch it, he grumbled as he threw Jiyong's pack of cigarette in it.

"Nothing," Jiyong grinned. "Not funny at all."

I don't know what I'm going to do without you, he thought as he's slowly giving up.

***

By the time they finished eating, Jiyong has many new things to memorize.

Seungri will be attending the grand opening of his newest branch of Aori Ramen next month. He didn't go to Korea often but he visits his parents every once in a while and he would love to spend this Christmas in Seoul. He lives by himself, he doesn't trust the apartment's laundry service. His house, the one Jiyong came into few days ago, still needs some stuff to fill it. Jiyong suggested him a pet and Seungri laughed. He was thinking more about decoration, not something that will chew on his socks while he's out.

Jiyong exchanged informations too. He's planning to have a world tour, this time, with many countries in Europe. He owns three cats and they're all living with Dami. He is writing songs for YG's newest girlgroup and one of them is Seungri's fan. Seungri smiled and Jiyong saw twinkle in his eye that reminded him of the old Seungri he used to have within his grasp.

"I'll drive you back to your hotel," Seungri says as Jiyong pays their bill, insisted on it to make up for Seungri's treat when he was drunk. "Or wherever you're staying."

"Hotel," Jiyong tells him. The idea of Seungri knows nothing about him feels bitter and he doesn't like it. He loves Seungri who will answer 100 questions about him correctly, even things he doesn't know himself.

Seungri nods. "Show me the way, captain."

***

Seungri's face was red. It was a brief touch but he's breathing hard. Their lips were centimeters apart and Jiyong's head was pounding.

"What was that for?" he whispered as if he's afraid to speak out loud might Jiyong run away to the night.

Jiyong, whose body had moved without his mind thinking, blinked. "What?"

"You kissed me," Seungri's voice was small. They're standing in open air, the light wasn't bright but he felt thunderstruck.

"I did," Jiyong murmured, his blood raced to do it again; to feel Seungri, warm to his touch, skin beneath his, dancing with needs.

Seungri took a step back inside the house and Jiyong followed. Magnet, Jiyong thought as he closed the door behind him. Seungri was looking at him, his eyes were big and curious, but he didn't ask anything. He never really questioned Jiyong's action, it was always Jiyong peeking on Seungri's things although Seungri never hide anything from him. Seungri was an air he's free to consume, yet Jiyong felt the rush to keep him in a jar.

When he moved, bracketing Seungri's face with his palm, Seungri's eyelids dropped shut. He thought he knew everything about Seungri already, but as their lips met again, he felt like a bird being set free, exploring a whole new journey he thought he'd never allowed to reach.

***

Seungri turns the engine off. "Are we meeting in the backstage?"

"What?" Jiyong isn't following the conversation. The ride was filled with his voice from Seungri's iPod –he insisted on listening to Jiyong's new album –and Jiyong, resisted nothing, was lost in his own jumbled thoughts while looking at Seungri, driving and humming on his seat.

"Daesung-hyung's concert," Seungri yawns. It's not really a night time, at least not Seungri's nap time when he still lived with Jiyong, but it's been a day and Jiyong supposes that Seungri must be tired. "Aren't we invited?"

"Ah, right," Jiyong tries to remember where his ticket is. Daesung would give him another one, of course, but he'd pout and Youngbae would sigh and Seunghyun would glare at him for forgetting the golden chance to see their lovely brother on stage. "I guess –I don't know. Seunghyun haven't told me anything more about it."

"When will he arrive?"

"Oh, he's already in Japan," Jiyong unbuckles his seatbelt, feeling in every move Seungri's eyes trailing on him. "We've met."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Seungri chuckled. "I envy."

"That I met Seunghyun?"

"Hmm."

Jiyong frowned. "He's still an ass, in case you think he's not."

"What did you do?"

"With Seunghyun?" Jiyong shuddered. His throat fills with truth he is barely holding on, the ones keeping his life hazy. "We just talked."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hmm."

"That's not important," Jiyong gets out of the car and Seungri, surprisingly, does too. "Thank you."

He waits but Seungri doesn't say anything. When he does, it's when Jiyong turns to get inside the elevator. His voice is empty and nearly quiet.

"They've been asking me," Seungri exhales and Jiyong imagines the air shift form into rain eventhough he can't see Seungri. "About what had happened."

"Who?" Jiyong is only five steps away from his escape, he can run and push the button so he'll go up and locked inside his hotel room.

He can hear Seungri's footsteps approaching him in a light and dull echo. He closes his eyes and counts in his head. One, two, three, four, five –

"Everyone," Seungri is standing right behind him. He's taller than Jiyong but he's always always looks up to Jiyong as if Jiyong can pick the stars with only tiptoeing. "Me. Myself."

"What do you want to know, Seunghyun?" Jiyong knows every way to hurt Seungri, he knows every thing to push him away. But Seungri, as far as Jiyong knows, is too hard to disappoint.

"Us," Seungri reaches for his sleeves, clutching tightly so Jiyong can't fly away from his hold but Jiyong doesn't have place to land on, he never really does. "Tell me."

"That's a lot and like you've said, four years late."

"I was afraid," Seungri confesses, he takes another step forward so they're standing side by side. "That if I hear that, I won't have another reason to think about you."

Jiyong takes Seungri's hand in his. Seungri's fingers always fit the spaces between his own like it's been made for it; like Seungri, by nature's purpose, has been there for him.

"I don't want to forget us," Seungri closes his eyes. "I want to be fine with remembering."

"Seungri..."

"Please," he begs. "Tell me."

Jiyong knows how to knock Seungri's walls down, how to barge in his space without invitation, but he doesn't really know how to ask Seungri in. He strokes Seungri's hair, it's soft and wavy, black to its root. Seungri leans to the touch and Jiyong's world shines so bright that it hurts his eyes but he can't move, he doesn't want to.

Crooked.

"I'd like some tea," Seungri whispers and it's thick with fear.

Jiyong swallows his own tears. "Sure."

Seungri squeezes his hand and the question creeps through Jiyong's skin like curse.

What happened to us?

***