Dedicated to Rin_CB-HH-VKs,
for not giving up on me.

Truly grateful, with all my heart.

_____

1.

According to Seungcheol, the way they met was extremely lame. Or even disastrous, if suddenly he felt like being sassy at the time.

"I mean," that was how he always started whenever he brought up the topic himself. "How could it be just the bar? Of a party that I don't even remember who threw it up? It's just too uncool for people like us. You know..."

"That at least we should have our first encounter when you are standing on the rooftop, singing Can't Take My Eyes Off You, version 1967 at the top of your lung, glowing under the light of a hundred tiny yellow neon bulbs intertwining into aesthetic strings. And I should literally can't take my eyes off you during this whole spectacular performance. Yeah, I know. By the way, for the fifty-five time I remind you – though you will forget it after exact three seconds anyway – the party was Junhui's."

And that was how Jisoo always replied, without even looking up from his book for once. But the other guy didn't seem to care about the details. In fact, there was hardly anything that Seungcheol would ever care about, except for his thoughts only. Like, despite Jisoo's couldn't-be-more cassette-toned response, he would still immediately lean in, take away the book from his hand. Then with no hesitation, he would kiss Jisoo.

"Gosh, I love how you always got me. And even how you emphasize those words."

He grinned between the touches of their lips, his breaths hovered somewhere under Jisoo's nose. Sometimes it was Rum, other times would be Château, or just a random local bottle, mixed with a pinch of Esse Light. But that was not the matter of brands. That was the matter of his smell fascinating the atmosphere, and how he continued the kisses until he brought out a smirk onto the corner of the other one's lips. Next thing was, in both defeat and contentment, Jisoo would have to correct himself for the fifty-five time: there was hardly anything Seungcheol would ever care about, except for his thoughts and him only.

As many other attics, the one of Seungcheol had a large square window, painted in white and placed on the left side of the roof. It was their favorite spot – from this perspective, they could see the moon rising and shimmering most vividly. Then after hours of conversations, talking, and kissing; the two would just lay there, on the fluffy white rug that they brought together, stare at the dim poetic silvery rays, silently appreciate how the light poured down its immense graciousness.

"You know, the moon."

Seungcheol muttered, reached out a bit to fully hold Jisoo's hand inside his. He pointed vaguely at the night sphere, while Jisoo lowered his eyelashes, almost drifted away into the rustling sound of their fingers tangled.

"Yeah. If there were a sea on the moon. A very, very blue sea, with water seemed like sparkling without even a trace of light. Then you and I would meet at the shore. You would wear white and I do too. Just the two of us. It would be perfect for our 100th."

Jisoo slowly whispered, as if he was singing an old lullaby. He wrapped his hand a little bit tighter around Seungcheol's. Under the guy's wrist, the rhythm was like ocean waves.

A smile blossomed on his lips when a small click cracked in, and suddenly all the lights went out. Seungcheol gently caressed his hair, quietly said.

"That's it. You are just ironically perfect for me."

The pure, pale, melancholy moonlight covered his figure and showered on the upward corner of his mouth. His somnolent glance was hidden behind a thin gray layer of fog, making him so surreal.

And that was why Jisoo never bothered when Seungcheol took away his book, even though there was a high chance it would be nowhere to be found the day after. Seungcheol was his book. His only favorite one. Seungcheol was the book with no beginning, no ending, constant changes of details and infinitive different possible scenarios. He would never get tired of how realistic worlds blended into psychic ones and erased all boundaries, there they formed crazier and crazier ideas of rewriting their past to sync with their fantasies. How he loved the way he always felt so limitless, so true whenever he was with Seungcheol.

And the way they called each other. Hopeless romantics.

2.

The two had a notebook in which they noted all of those concepts down. It was a normal, a little bit formal – to be precise – notebook, all white from cover sheets to papers, with no decoration. It hadn't had any decoration, until Seungcheol decided to "reinvent the reinvention," then ended up drawing a Cubism portrait of Norah Jones on it.

"I would erase everything from our first encounter. Literally everything. But this is not. Norah Jones. Hell not."

He stated, with a half-burned cigarette hanging on the corner of his mouth, and smirked playfully. Each and every time, Jisoo would harshly glare at him, then couldn't help smiling when he recalled the note which Seungcheol left for him after their first time meeting each other.

To be honest, that night at the party was quite blurry with Jisoo. All that his scattered pieces of memories could hold was a scene of him sitting at the bar, rambling with the bartender, who was also a friend he hadn't met for ages. And it was not until the DJ put on some popular, top-list electronic pop songs, and the pretty drunk Jisoo started to complain about how shitty and loud the music was, that he noticed the presence of Seungcheol.

He would never understand how and where he worked out the nerve to talk with Seungcheol. Might it be due to his third glass of Brandy – which he needed to agree with the other guy and admitted that way too cliché to start such a relationship.

"Mainstream huh?" That was the first line Seungcheol offered him, by the time he came to order a Vodka cocktail and happened to hear Jisoo murmured his curses to the low-quality music.

"You could tell." Jisoo mocked, although the alcohol reduced the sarcasm level of his tone remarkably, making him sound rather incomprehensible than ironic as he wanted. "Really, I can even trade all these 21-year-old Brandy for them to shut this bloody hell down and put on some Norah Jones instead."

"Wise choice." Seungcheol laughed. "It's tragic that the 20s people here don't play Norah Jones at the bar. But I guess it's different at your place, right, L.A. dweller?"

The rest of the night naturally continued with small talks switched from tastes of music, something like galaxies, to Jisoo's hometown. It went on so smoothly to the point that he even let Seungcheol carry him home at the end of the party without a second thought.

The next morning, Jisoo woke up from an inevitably heavy hangover. But it didn't take any effect on him noticing the Post-it note on the surface of his nightstand right away.

"L.A. dweller,

I just realized that we haven't known each other's name. It is kinda funny that we chatted the whole night without knowing the slightest identity of the other one. But I guess it doesn't matter much, though. Name is never the first thing that I want to introduce to anyone about myself. And tonight, for the first time, I've got a chance to show what I wanted to show, in the way I wanted to show either, to a complete stranger like you.

I love the way you say "bloody hell". No flirtatious attempt. It's just the fact that you are straight from Los Angeles, yet you curse like a standard British seems appealing to me. It would be great if we could hang out some more times.

Okay, I think it's time to tell you my name,
Seungcheol."

Jisoo flipped the note. He couldn't help grinning wider when he saw the small line at the bottom of the paper, next to a hand-drawing vinyl icon.

"Because Norah Jones-aholic, I've got the fullest collection of her albums. So?"

Jisoo still kept the note, he pinned it on the very first page of their journal. And sometimes, on these sunny summer-like days, with the golden rays passed through the window and lightened the whole room, while the air maintained its ideal dryness level, Jisoo would reread these lines. It was his favorite habit.

"No flirtatious attempt? This is the most flirtatious thing I've ever seen."

He teased. Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, put one of his vinyls on the player, and set the cartridge on point. Don't Know Why immediately covered the space.

"Dear, this is flirtatious."

Jisoo laughed. He shook his head in defeat, then continued to stick a headband which he had just finished making to the Norah Jones' portrait on the cover. Instead of flowers as common, his headband consisted of twelve planets, each was full of his signatures written in glitter ink pen.

"Weird."

Seungcheol bent down and carefully studied the cover of their notebook. Jisoo chuckled, swept golden and silvery glitter on his left cheek, then briefly kissed on it.

"Thanks."

"No, I mean seriously, how could Saturn be the biggest planet of all?"

"You are the weirdest."

3.

Most people who knew about their relationship called it some kind of fate. In response to those remarks, Jisoo would simply smile, that sounds nice, but the term "coincidental events" will suit us more.

Fate. That was the word for feelings, for mysterious magnetic force toward one another, for blinding, for hearts. They could control their thoughts of each other. Seungcheol could explain why he was attracted to Jisoo logically and vice versa. They could go on for days, busily pursuit their own concerns, and still have no problem with not meeting, talking, or seeing the other one.

Imagination, synchronization, fantasies, theories – these were what drawn them closer. Their minds reached out for understanding and acceptance. They connected. The hearts, laid behind.

The idea of being in love mainly with someone's brain would normally be seen as romantic to dreamers, or terrific to realists. Jisoo wanted neither of them. He just liked the idea being simple as it sounded: he loved the mind of Seungcheol. But it would be impossible to sort things out without having to expose his weirdness – which was only Seungcheol's privilege to see. Therefore, he just kept quiet and carried on with his polite manners.

After the note, Jisoo did call Seungcheol for real. Their meetings took place occasionally, but always at the same spot. A café lounge, Western-style decorated, where they played Norah Jones on Tuesday and Wednesday, The Carpenters or Rumer on Monday and Thursday, and saved the best Frank Sinatra for the Friday night out. It was all so ideal that Jisoo even suspected whether Seungcheol was the owner of the shop or not.

"No," Seungcheol giggled while they were on the dance floor, under the dim light of the mirror ball, slowly swinging to the jazzy rhythm of Summer Wind. "I ain't. But I hope I am. One day I'm gonna run a café of my own, with white balconies and a set of guitars fully covered a side of the walls. Maybe the left one."

"Then would you let me play those guitars? I will help you with the music arranging."

"Only if you agree to be the frontman of my band."

"Are you kidding? Totally deal."

They would laugh, raise their glasses for nothing in particular, drink and talk until they fell into the half-conscious mode, then had to walk home at 2 A.M., since there was no taxi to be found at this time of the night. But Jisoo wouldn't mind that, he never would. He loved the drunken image of Seungcheol, when his playful, somehow tricky attitude would slowly wear off, revealing a much more dreamy and naive version. He would stumble a little bit on his own foot while whistling the chorus of the last song they had just heard at the café, and grinned happily.

At some points, Jisoo wondered why every moment they spent together seemed to be involved with alcohol. But then once again, he wouldn't mind. They always could rewrite it the way they wanted to, as they had their journal full of ideas about reinventing their first meet. They always could continue drawing their future, in which they would establish a café together. They always could argue whether to paint the wall in red brick or navy blue, to choose between wooden chairs and steel ones, then discuss until all of their decisions came to satisfaction.

They always could. Because after all, Seungcheol was the most favorite book of Jisoo, and Jisoo was exactly the same to him.

4.

The seldom hangout pattern continued for about three months before Seungcheol decided to take Jisoo to his house for the first time. Jisoo didn't remember precisely the date when he was finally allowed to get into Seungcheol's private corner, just guessed that it fell in July. "One of those typical N days," as the guy stated.

Seungcheol had many weird habits, including naming stuff. Like N was short for nostalgic, often referred to mid-summer days, with the temperature raised relatively high and cloudless sky. The row of lilac pots on the windowsill had finally entered the most beautiful period of its lifetime, blossomed out million tiny purple petals, gracefully swayed in the wind.

They sat down on the wooden floor, being surrounded by the collections which Seungcheol had taken off from the cases to show Jisoo. The sun shone on them, leaving random round-shaped spots on their skins and clothes. Some of the lines fell onto Seungcheol's hair, dyed it to golden brown, and looked like glowing.

Jisoo lowered his head to what Seungcheol offered to him, couldn't deny the chill running down to every cell of his spine. Right at the moment he set his first step into Seungcheol's attic, he knew this guy was a liar. He didn't just have the fullest collection of Norah Jones. He had a museum of true art. Most of his vinyls were first-edition, which were very rare, and unquestionably cost a fortune.

He stumbled through about thirty albums then came across Lioness: Hidden Treasure. Jisoo turned to the 70s, vintage white-golden pattern decorated gramophone in the corner of the room, and set it up. He naturally humbled along and swung delightfully to the symphony.

"How'd you know?"

Seungcheol looked up, seemed quite surprised. Jisoo curled his lips in satisfaction, purely like a child.

"Don't fall for me yet."

The guy grinned. He lay down next to Jisoo's knees, and gently tapped on his left one, followed the elegant rhythm of the song.

"I don't know if you've ever felt like this," he said, his eyes were half-closed. "But I always have a passive aggressive with this kind of weather. Warm, sunny, light. I like the atmosphere. But then I can't help feeling nostalgic and recalling my good old days. It's too beautiful that sometimes the sadness can creep in and sink me into a comfortable blue. It's comfortable, but it's blue.

"Long before I met you, I've had a habit of listening to Norah Jones on these days. She is my soul accompany. She is my saving grace.

"If I would ever have a lover, I think I would call that person Grace. Grace. It's sure a beautiful word, don't you think?"

Jisoo carefully stroked his hair, felt the warmth of sunlight lingering on these short, thin, and wavy strands transferring to the tip of his fingers. Seungcheol lifted up his eyelashes a little bit, and stared straight-forwardly at Jisoo. Looking at him was like looking at a picture of summer, when a breeze blew through the greenery and made the layer of leaves rustle.

Seungcheol smiled.

"She used to be the only one. And now, you came."

5.

Not so long after the first time Seungcheol invited Jisoo to come over, he decided to redecorate the house.

There were so many things that Jisoo didn't know about Seungcheol but he didn't ask. Like what did he earn for a living. Like how could he own for himself such a nice and expensive house in one of the most favorable areas of Seoul. Like why he never mentioned his backgrounds. He didn't ask, and he didn't want to ask either. Each of them had for themselves plenty of people doing this task. That was not something he would mind. That was not the way they connected.

Oddly as it sounded, everything seemed to fall into its place when he was with Seungcheol. His mind was full of curiosity but at the same time, he felt understood thoroughly.

The redecoration process took quite a while, since Seungcheol wanted to add extensive amount of details and reconstruct the second story, but he insisted on Jisoo not coming along the whole time. Therefore, on the second Sunday of November, when Jisoo had just woken up in time to get a call from Seungcheol telling him to come by and see how everything was settled down, that he realised they hadn't met each other for almost five months without noticing anything.

That was it. Fate? They still weren't able to afford such a luxury word.

By the time Jisoo came, the twilight had almost gone. Seungcheol was sitting on one of his favorite vintage chair in the front yard, smoking. His eyes flashed when he saw Jisoo walking towards him.

"Finally ready to let the cat out, huh?"

Jisoo crossed his arms, slightly leaned against the white wooden door, the corner of his mouth formed an upward curve. Seungcheol smiled.

"You'll see."

Jisoo giggled when Seungcheol stood up, and, with no hesitation as always whenever it came to strange things, covered his eyes with a blindfold. Jisoo could feel himself being led to the stairs, slowly walked up the steps to the second floor. Then they stopped. Jisoo unfolded the black silk ribbon to see that he was in the arc balcony. Barrier-free. And they were standing right on the edge.

He turned to Seungcheol. The guy's eyes were sparkling. He quietly threatened:

"Don't you ever tell me..."

Seungcheol grinned, his voice shivered due to the thrill.

"Yes."

Then no signal, no warning, no prediction, he held Jisoo's wrist tight, and jumped off.

Jisoo couldn't tell exactly how many neurons had died together with his uncontrollable scream, but he could be sure that he would never be as intelligent as he was before this deathly experience. He didn't dare to open his eyes, and if his tactition didn't feel the softness of the material and he didn't hear Seungcheol laughed next to him, he would think that he was dead.

"What does that even mean?"

Jisoo wanted to shout, but the scare made him sound so weak and shaking, and the tone was just barely above a whisper. Seungcheol still laughed. He turned him over and laid his head on the left side of Jisoo's chest.

"Your heart is beating so fast."

He stated. Jisoo exploded.

"Of course it is."

Seungcheol looked up. The sparks inside his eyes were even more vivid. The corner of his mouth was trying so hard to hold a grin. Jisoo madly shot a glare, torn between wanting to hit him and wanting to laugh. Then Seungcheol couldn't hold it in anymore. They bursted out.

That might be the most idiotic situation Jisoo could ever imagine himself to be in for the rest of his life: jumping off from the balcony, lying on a white cushion placed upon the lawn, under a mid-winter sky and laughing like a maniac. They kept on laughing and laughing until both were too exhausted, and their heads felt dizzy due to the lack of oxygen.

The silence rised while the cheerful sound slowly worn off like a tide, and for a moment, they just stayed still, watching the early moon appearing from behind the navy clouds and shining its blurry light. No star. It was so lonely.

"I love the sound of your heart beating. It's like I can truly feel you are so alive. Lively. Not just a dream of mine. You are real."

Seungcheol spoke. He pressed a kiss upon Jisoo's chest. The other guy messed up his hair, murmured:

"Fuck you."

Seungcheol grinned.

"So the cat's out, L.A."

Jisoo didn't reply. From this position, they could hear the faint sound of the old gramophone playing a familiar jazz song.

"What do you think about being up there?"

Seungcheol asked. Jisoo quietly said.

"It would be lonely."

"Wouldn't it? I think the same. But it could also be happy, when you finally found somewhere you are meant to stay. Where you feel belonged. May my Angel only saw this perspective and that's why she went to meet Brian. And the rest of the club. And who knows, maybe they are playing to the Gods now. It sounds like one of her dreams. And it's great."

The song switched. Jisoo held Seungcheol's head by his left hand, placed a kiss upon his hair, while the other hand of him tangled with Seungcheol's fingers.

"Angels are meant to fly."
"I know."
"Don't fade away."

Seungcheol smiled.

"I know."

6.

Seungcheol detested the cliché. Unfortunately, the way his feelings revealed to Jisoo was absolutely one of the most classic cases.

After several times of Jisoo dropping by, their rendezvous switched from the familiar Western lounge to Seungcheol's attic. The two also started to meet up more regularly. We need to prepare for our café, and our band as well whenever we can, as the guy stated. And Jisoo added, and I love to hear the sound of your elegant gramophone, he giggled, adjusted the bass strings and hand position for Seungcheol the hundredth time, when it mixed with the clumsy guitar skills of yours.

That wasn't a lie. The old spot was indeed a rare find, with the wonderful taste of music and highly recommended wines, but it wasn't somewhere really theirs. Inside this nest, they belonged. Each and every time they met, they always created whether extremely crazy things or extremely weird things. Or both. Nothing in between. And some of the days could always easily draw a smile on Jisoo's face whenever being recalled. Some days like that day.

It might fell on the first or the second Friday night of December, when Jisoo had to work on an extra shift and came to Seungcheol's house quite late than usual. He had called Seungcheol to cancel the date, but the guy insisted on him coming over. Jisoo didn't expect anything, but seeing a 1960s version of Seungcheol dressing in a long wavy brown wig and a pair of jewelry culottes jeans, holding his red white-stripped bass was still a little bit too much to handle. And although he was too exhausted to the point that he didn't even want to eat his favorite Cheetos, after a hysterical laugh, Jisoo still picked up the guitar and played Passive Aggressive along with him.

"That was sick," Seungcheol announced when they finished the last note. Jisoo chuckled, leaned on him with his arm upon Seungcheol's shoulder.

"High school indie band very much alike. Plus your highly dramatical abstract costume."

"It is a revolution." Seungcheol objected. "But I have to agree with you, this jeans is killing me. I just swing and more than a half of those fake gems had fallen out. What do I look like now, a bald peacock? Really, can't trust that shady vintage shop downtown."

Jisoo laughed. Seungcheol briefly kissed on his white collar.

"I'll go change."

He nodded, looked down the lipstick mark. "Crimson red." He chuckled. "Hardcore."

Seungcheol grinned, waved his hand, then disappeared behind the bedroom door. Jisoo sat down, the weariness once again crept in; then when his head started to feel dizzy and wanted to drift away, he heard Seungcheol called.

"Hey, did you see my phone?"

"No?"

Jisoo murmured, his eyes was a little bit too heavy to open. The sound of Seungcheol rustling something, might be his clothes and blanket echoed in his ears.

"Could you please look for it there? I might have put it somewhere near the sofa."

"Uh huh."

Jisoo lazily replied, slowly took the phone out and dialed the number. Instantly, he could feel the faint buzzing sound right behind his back. He flipped the pillow to see Seungcheol's iPhone was in the mode of receiving an incoming call.

And suddenly, all of his tiredness was gone.

"Seungcheol."

The mentioned guy immediately came in.

"Did you find it?"

Jisoo slowly turned back, holding Seungcheol's phone in one hand and his in the other hand. He quietly said, completely in surprise.

"I didn't just find it."

On the glowing screen was a picture of Jisoo, smiling, and the name of the caller was displayed very, very clear.

Grace.

Seungcheol detested the cliché. Unfortunately, the way his feelings revealed to Jisoo was absolutely one of the most classic cases.

But fortunately, he was always the guy capable of making things memorable. Like the way he stood that day, in front of the man he loved, still wore his disco style wig, yellow and white glitter mascara lingered on his left eye. And instead of confirming romantically, he just stepped up, forcefully kissed Jisoo, and cursed.

"Shit."

7.

"Have you ever wondered why I know you're from L.A. since the first time I saw you?"

Seungcheol asked, unintentionally spun the kaleidoscope next to his leg. The white light dimly reflected on the ceiling, drawing on it the shapes of millions tiny flowers and stars. Jisoo looked up, watched these figures whirling into each other, like dancing.

He didn't answer, and Seungcheol laid his head on the guy's shoulder, exhaled. The smoke of the cigarette hanging on the corner of his mouth faintly blended into the atmosphere.

"It is your accent."

Jisoo still didn't say a word. Seungcheol gently tapped on his stomach. His long, thin, and a little bit cold fingers drew a curvy and irregular path on Jisoo's skin. They continued to go up, then stopped right at the guy's heart.

"Why did you come back?"

Seungcheol whispered. Jisoo grabbed his hand, entwined theirs together, and squeezed. Seungcheol turned to face him. With a slight touch, he pushed Jisoo to fall on the white feathered bed.

"I don't feel like I belong."

Between the small and shredded kisses, Jisoo quietly said. Seungcheol laid upon him, buried his face in Jisoo's neck, and muttered.

"Me too."

He paused. There was no smell of Rum, Château, or random local bottle today - just the faintly bitter taste of Esse Light lingered on the tip of his tongue. Jisoo closed his eyes, the twisted images of the kaleidoscope started to make him feel dizzy. For a moment, he thought that Seungcheol had slept.

"Come with me."

Suddenly, the guy spoke. He stood up and grabbed the car key on the nightstand. Jisoo didn't ask anything.

They drove through the night. During the trip, except the sound of music came from the radio and Seungcheol sometimes sang along to old commercial theme songs, the atmosphere was completely silent. Jisoo turned to the window. As the car speed maintained at nearly 120mph, his pupils could only absorb in the distorted images of the row of trees on the sideway. But he could tell that even on a mid-summer night like this, the wind still blew quite strong, and the outside was sure a little bit cold.

The route they took was heading off to the West, and it was almost empty. Soon there wasn't even a distorted tree for Jisoo to see. He turned back.

"Could I open the roof?"

Seungcheol pressed the button. Upon their head, the hood slowly opened, revealing a small space of starry sky. Jisoo climbed to the back seat and stood up, the upper half of his body was out to the fresh air of the night.

"There is another world, well, there must be..."

He stretched his hands, felt the wind strongly passed through his fingers and every strand of his hair, and suddenly sang. Jisoo looked down the rearview mirror, only to catch the sight of Seungcheol looking at him too. The guy laughed, and through the movement of his mouth, Jisoo could understand. Weirdo, he said.

Jisoo smiled.

They kept on driving for almost three hours then Seungcheol finally stopped. They were at somewhere looked like a medium harbour, surrounded by many ships and boats, and even two mini submarines anchored at the furthest spot.

"Where are we?"

Jisoo looked around. Seungcheol closed the door, grinned.

"Thought you'd never asked."

He stepped behind to open the trunk, picked a handy plasma hypertherm up and put on his protection mask. To Jisoo's doubtful and full of confusion look, Seungcheol walked to the closet canoe. He started the machine, then immediately bent down to cut the iron chain tying the canoe to the stake.

"What are you doing?"

Jisoo almost shouted out, his eyes widened in shock. Seungcheol put his index finger up to form an "shh" sign, then waved for Jisoo to come closer.

"Don't worry, I just borrow it. Cover me, you don't want both of us to waste our time inside the jail on such a beautiful night like this, do you?"

Jisoo wanted to talk back, but Seungcheol had turned back to his obviously illegal task and didn't let Jisoo have a single chance to announce an objection. He worryingly glanced around. It was quite late and there were only the two of them standing here. But Jisoo could see a sign of light from the not so far distance, and he was perfectly sure that it came from the guard office.

After about five minutes, the chain had finally broken into two. Seungcheol shut down the machine and took his mask off. His eyes were full of excitement and victorious sparks.

"What do you think? Tricky, huh?"

Jisoo almost choked, but there was no time for him to lecture Seungcheol. Without anything to hold back, the canoe seemed to slowly float away. At the same time, he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. And for Christ's sake, he knew who was coming.

Shit.

Jisoo grabbed Seungcheol's hand, and jumped on the canoe. There was a shout toward them, and the flashlight flashed.

"Turn this bloody hell on and get out of here!"

Jisoo demanded, his hand started to shake a little bit. Seungcheol grinned. He turned back to kiss Jisoo, shortly but passionately, and howled.

"Go!"

The canoe sped up, then disappeared into the night, like one of those many spheres above the sky.

After about twenty minutes, guessed that they were far enough from the harbour to call it safe, Seungcheol gradually slowed the canoe. It was not until it dropped off to the speed of a wooden ship that Jisoo realized there were only the two of them, inside this endless space, with the ocean seemed to blend into the sky perfectly and completely. The stars reflected their dim light on the gentle waves, glowed the whole silky dimension.

"How do you feel?"

Suddenly, Seungcheol asked. Jisoo turned to him, contemplated the way salty wind blowing through his hair. He wanted to tell Seungcheol that he was crazy, but the curve on the corner of his mouth, and his crystal pupils looking straight forward the pathway wouldn't let him.

"Sick."

"Isn't it?" Seungcheol chuckled.

"Do you usually do it?"

"Not that much, but I guess it's enough to make the guard remember me."

Jisoo looked surprised. Seungcheol smiled.

"We didn't have to run, really... But seeing that aspect of you is indeed an unexpected jackpot."

Jisoo didn't say anything back. As the canoe kept on going to its destination, the dawn gradually started to reveal itself from the blurry horizon. The sky slowly turned brighter, early sunlight drew on the light gray background some faint orange lines.

This voyage was shorter than the previous trip, after one and a half hour, they finally landed. The ocean fog was much thicker and heavier than in the city, and it took Jisoo quite a while to realise that they were on an island. Heuksan Island, to be exact, as Jisoo could hardly guess from the line written on a blue board, which was half buried in the mist.

The dawn was gone, but from this position, they couldn't see it clearly. The sky was still covered in that milky colour. They walked along the shore, felt the waves gently lapped on their bare feet.

"This is my most favorite place."

Seungcheol quietly said.

"Why?"

Jisoo's voice was even quieter.

"This is the closest place to Los Angeles."

He replied. There was a sound of crumbling echoed in the air. Might it be the tone of Seungcheol. Might it be some layers of Jisoo. Might it be due to a flock of storks standing near the water, not too far from them, rustling theirs purely white feathers, then spreading out their wings and fly. The storks fleeted by so swiftly that in the moment they all took off to the sky, it looked like they had become one with the clouds.

"Do you like storks?"

Seungcheol asked. They had completely disappeared in just a blink of an eye, leaving behind an uncertain feeling, like they had never really existed. Jisoo turned to Seungcheol, only to catch a sight of his left side face, and his transparent eyes.

"Yes."

"I like flamingoes."

8.

"Seungcheol?"

Jisoo turned the key to crack the door open. After the trip to Heuksan, he got a call from his parents telling him to fly back to Los Angeles immediately, due to some family issues. It was too urgent that Jisoo didn't have enough time to say goodbye to Seungcheol properly.

He had sent an e-mail to Seungcheol. Just one. The guy didn't reply. But he wasn't bothered by that either. It was always how it went, their lives – closely bonded in some mental aspects, but on the other parts, they were nothing but just strangers.

Like after three weeks, the first thing Jisoo did when he finally landed on Seoul was going to meet Seungcheol, only to see an empty house. In that moment, he realised how little did he know about that person. Where he could go. What he would do at this time of the weekdays. He didn't call him beforehand, planned on giving him a small surprise, but when Jisoo took off the phone and dialed the number, there was only an automatic voice response telling him that the number he tried to reach was out of touch.

He stood in the hallway, a weird, bitter feeling of losing started to whirl inside him. While Jisoo was still considering whether to come in and wait or to leave, the door behind him cracked open again.

"Seungcheol?"

He turned back, smiled. But standing in front of him wasn't the mentioned guy, with soft, curly dark hair and a familiar cigarette on the corner of the mouth. He was completely someone Jisoo didn't know.

The stranger seemed as surprised as Jisoo. He asked, and Jisoo could sense inside his tone an obvious defence.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jisoo. And...?"

The stranger didn't let him finish his sentence. His eyes flashed in contentment and relief, and the defence was completely replaced by a cheerful tone.

"So you are Jisoo. I've been waiting for you. Could you please take the luggage in the attic today? Seungcheol told me that it was yours and insisted on leaving them here for you to come and pick up yourself."

"But who are you? And where is Seungcheol?"

The man was taken aback once again.

"Seungcheol had moved to America. He sold this house for me three weeks ago. Are you his housemate? Didn't he tell you?"

Jisoo petrified. The man looked at him, worried.

"You should try calling him. If it's not suitable for you, you could leave the luggage here and come back later. I ain't in a rush anyway."

"No, thank you. I will come and pick them up right now."

After a long and awkward pause, Jisoo finally replied. His voice came out, to his own surprise, much calmer than he thought. The man nodded. He turned around, walked up the stair leading to their attic.

There wasn't a trace of the attic like Jisoo had always remembered. No gramophone. No disk shelves covering the walls. No kaleidoscope. No white feathered bed. Inside the room now were just boxes upon boxes, heaped up together. The only thing that wasn't wrapped was a small wooden table, placed under the window. Lying on the surface of it was their journal, opened.

Jisoo came closer. He picked up the photo pinned between the sheets. That was him and Seungcheol lying on the green grass, embellished with some tiny white flowers, smiling so carefree and bright.

He flipped it. Behind the photo was a small line, written at the center of the white background.

With Angel.

Jisoo held the photo close to his chest.

"Still not remember my name."

He smiled, choked, and closed his eyes.

9.

"See, I told you, the music here is brilliant."

There were two young girls sitting on the left side of the stage, next to the wall covered in a set of guitars. The blonde girl whispered to the other one, and she nodded in agreement. Jisoo slightly adjusted the position of the piano chair which he was sitting on, before continuing to play the melody for the umpteenth time.

"Over futile odds,
And laughed at by the Gods..."

And now the final frame
Love is a losing game.

_____

Index

1. The word "angel" which Seungcheol mentioned in the 5th part is referred to Amy Winehouse. Also in this part, the name Brian is related to Brian Jones, the late former and leader of The Rolling Stones. The term "the club" means 27 club.

2. List of songs mentioned:

Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, Can't Take My Eyes off You
Norah Jones, Don't Know Why
Frank Sinatra, Summer Wind
Placebo, Passive Aggresive
The Smiths, Asleep
Amy Winehouse, Our Day Will Come (hidden track) & Love Is a Losing Game