Jaejin took another swig from the bottle, shutting his eyes to keep the room from spinning too badly, but all he achieved was spinning in the darkness that had taken over inside of him. It took him a few moments to realise that the ringing he was hearing was not inside of his head, not that time anyway, it was coming from his phone that was buried under the pile of photographs on the coffee table.

He'd changed his number after she'd left, after his life as he knew it had ended, his lawyer the only person he'd shared the new number with. He lifted the phone without looking at it, his head a mess, so even if it had been a familiar number, he wouldn't have recognised it, especially with his lawyer's number being the only one saved to the phone.

"Yes..." He was met by silence from the other side of the line and was about to hang up when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Jaejin..."

His fingers tightened around the phone as the familiar voice filtered through his alcohol-dulled brain. It couldn't be. He was imagining it. There was a term quacks used for that – transference. Yes. That was it. Except, that would mean that he was missing the person whose voice he was imagining, a fact he was not willing to acknowledge. He was about to end the call when the man on the other end spoke again.

"Say something... anything. Jaejin, please... are you home? I... let me see you. I need to know you're alright."

His grip on the phone tightened, his eyes closing as he pushed down the flood of unwelcome emotions the desperation in the other man's voice caused. He couldn't do this. Not again.

"I have nothing to say to you." He ended the call without waiting on a response from the other end.

▼▲▼

If he had to be honest, he was expecting the click from the moment he'd uttered the first word, but still he felt anger surge up inside of him. Question was, who was he angry at? At Jaejin for hanging up on him or at himself for being too pathetic to stay away?

It had been all over the news for months – Korea's sweetheart, actress Choi Nara and her writer husband, Choi Jaejin had been the perfect couple, so naturally, the news of their divorce rocked the nation. No one had been more shocked by the news than Yohan. He recalled all the times jealousy had knotted his gut as he listened to Jaejin talk to his wife on the phone, how the love he felt for her carried not only in his tone but in the way his expression softened at the sound of her voice. He had been sure that their love was strong enough to overcome a silly affair.

He looked up at the window on the third floor as he got out of his car. Why was he even there? He hadn't planned anything further than the phone call. Would they allow him into the building? Probably not, even if they did recognise him as the idol who had spent a lot of time at the loft during the time they had worked together – and more. He already knew how strict building security was, so trying would only further frustrate him.

One thing he knew Jaejin valued was his privacy and petty as it felt, Yohan was desperate enough to try anything that would get him into the building. He drew in a shaky breath as he looked down at his phone. He already knew that Jaejin would ignore his call, so he tried a different approach.

'I'm outside. You don't want me making a scene when they refuse to let me in. Do you?' He stood staring down at his phone after sending the text, his fingers tapping the screen impatiently.

▼▲▼

He threw the phone down onto the sofa as he got up, running a hand through his hair as he started to pace the small space between the coffee table and the sofa. Why was Yohan calling him? What was he thinking?

Fuck!

He felt the flames of anger licking at his insides, threatening to consume him. He grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and hurled it across the room, the sound of shattering glass mildly satisfying. His phone buzzed making him look down at the device with disgust as if it had somehow betrayed him by allowing that call to come through. He lifted the phone to read the text, cursing quietly as he read the subtle threat.

There were always reporters and fans camped outside his building since most of the tenants were celebrities, more so during the two months after the scandal of their divorce hit the news, probably hoping to sniff out something more about Korea's favourite couple separating. Everyone knew they'd split up and that Jaejin had remained at their loft in the city while Nara had moved to their house in the countryside, but no one knew why. An idol he'd worked with in the past showing up and causing a scene would hit every gossip column and while Jaejin didn't give half a fuck about what people thought about him, he did care about what one woman thought. Seeing anything relating to him and Yohan together would hurt her all over again. And she'd been hurt too much already. 

▼▲▼

He closed his eyes as the phone vibrated in his hand, not sure he wanted to see the reply to his shameful threat. Yohan wasn't fool enough to delude himself that Jaejin would be happy to see him, or that he had any right to be there. In fact, showing up on the doorstep of a man whose life was falling apart because of him was probably one of the dumbest things he'd ever done. And he'd done some truly dumb shit in the past.

He looked up at the apartment with the dark drapes drawn across its window before looking down at the new message on his phone.

'Come up'

Words he'd heard so many times before, yet this time it gripped his gut in a tight fist of anxiety. He smiled brightly as he walked up to the security desk, greeting each of the two men by their name as he signed in with a somewhat shaky hand. He flashed them his most practised adored-by-all-idol smile before stepping into the elevator and punching the code to Jaejin's floor. He remembered all the codes – elevator, fire-escape, the loft – even things he wanted to forget about being there he still remembered. He'd been anxious to see Jaejin, but now that the elevator was carrying him upward he wished it would slow down, give him more time to compose himself as memories flooded back.

How they'd met for the first time at a charity event hosted by Jaejin's company. Times they'd spent in his studio working on his album, the way the growing attraction between them could no longer be denied. Taking Jaejin around his manor to discuss ideas for its remodelling before he could move into his dream home. Jaejin's face in everything. And that fateful day they spent here in his loft – the home he shared with his wife. A place that held so many good memories for Yohan, but they were all tainted by one memory burnt into his brain. The memory of Jaejin's wife coming home early from Switzerland to surprise him. And it worked – he'd never been more surprised in his life.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and took a deep calming breath as the motion stopped and the elevator doors slid open. Why was he there? Did he even have anything worth saying to this man that could make anything better? He'd come there and threatened his way inside, pushing aside all regrets as his feet carried him to Jaejin's door. And for the first time since coming there, he knocked, waiting to be let inside.

▼▲▼

Jaejin stood staring at the screen, wishing he could recall his reply. He'd acted rashly, not giving his initial panic time to dissipate before replying to Yohan's text and letting security know to send him up. They'd been friends and lovers, so he wanted to believe that Yohan wouldn't do anything to hurt him, but he also knew how unpredictable the man could be. He was sure that he was bluffing. But what if he wasn't? He couldn't chance more negative publicity, it was affecting his company and more importantly, his wife. Ex-wife. He knew that he would never get used to thinking of her as an ex anything.

He shut his eyes, even the gloom of the darkened room hurting them. When was the last time he'd drawn the heavy drapes and seen sunlight? Months. Not since the night she left. Anger started to take hold of him again, anger at the man who was on his way up to see him. The very man who was the reason she left. What was he thinking coming there?

He turned at the sound of the soft rap on the door. When had the son of a bitch ever knocked when coming there? Jaejin took the few steps toward the door, pulling it open and swinging out the moment Yohan's face came into view, his fist making contact with the other man's left cheekbone.

"That's for threatening me."

▼▲▼

The initial shock of the blow sent him staggering backwards, his hand moving to touch his face. Had he really expected to walk in there and leave unscathed? No, he would've been delusional to believe that. Only an insane person would come within striking distance of an angry Jaejin, but as much he he'd tried, he could not stay away. He'd always been weak, but especially when it came to Jaejin. He pushed his way into the apartment and shut the door, if he was about to be hit again, it would not be in the hallway.

"It was a shallow threat and you know it." He rubbed at his smarting cheek. It would bruise, that was a certainty, he was just glad it wasn't his mouth. "At least I hope you know that I would never hurt you that way. You've suffered enough... because of me."

He pushed his dark locks out of his face, his eyes adjusting to the dark as he walked into the living room – empty bottles, the distinctive stench of hard liquor and clutter all over the once pristine room. Was this how he'd been living? Yohan bit down onto his lower lip to keep it from trembling, swallowing down the wave of emotions washing over him.

"How long since you've opened a window?" He turned to look at the other man, trying to see his expression in the dull light. "Jae, how long since you've been out?"

"So now you care?" Jaejin took a step closer, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and shoved him up against a wall. "Say what you came here to say so I can throw you the fuck out."

Even in the dark he could see the dangerous way Jaejin's eyes narrowed, the all too familiar tensing of his muscles as he tried to control his anger. He should've left right then, if he were any brand of smart he would have left. Instead, his hands lifted from his sides and pushed hard against the other man's chest, freeing himself from his grip, feeling the heat of anger taking hold of him again.

"You're done throwing me out!" His voice rose to a tone he hardly recognised as he threw a punch, his knuckles connecting with Jaejin's jaw, all restraint gone, no care given to how loud he was being. "And you're done blaming only me. I'm not the coward hiding from my own feelings. You are." He shook his head, flexing his hand. It'd been a long time since he'd hit anyone, and it felt every bit as awful as he remembered.

▼▲▼

Being pushed off didn't come as a surprise, but the punch was the last thing he'd expected from Yohan, the meekest person he knew. He didn't counter, instead, taking a step back so the punch, when it hit, drove him backwards and half onto the dining table. The unexpected sting to the side of his face sobered him instantly, every repressed emotion surfacing at that moment.

He'd always heard the term 'seeing red', but in that moment he finally understood it when everything around him took on a hazy effect, flashes of red blurring out everything but one thing in the room – the person he was about to rip to shreds. He lunged at the other man, fists flying with little regard for where they landed, the anger he'd held back for months fuelling every punch.

His arms swung until they no longer could, until they were pinned to his sides from behind. He wasn't sure how Yohan had gotten around him, he didn't much care. Freeing himself would've been easy enough if he used his upper body strength, but all the fight left him at a single word whispered against his ear.

"Jaejin..." Yohan's voice filtered through his rage-fuelled haze in a breathy rush.

The room slowly came back into focus, tears he didn't realise he was shedding salty on his lips. The moment he felt the hold on him slacken, he shoved Yohan off and moved to stand with his back against the wall, avoiding looking at the man who used to be his lover as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

"Leave..."

He turned his head to stare off into the gloom of the small living room, unwelcome tears continuing to fall. Why was he crying? Anger? Sadness? He refused to overthink it. He turned away, leaning his head against the cool wall, no longer caring about what the other man thought as he gave in to the bursting dam of emotions. He needed to be alone, to wallow in his sadness and guilt by himself, but he could barely breathe through the sobs, let alone speak. So he sat there with his face half-buried in the wall, half shielded by his hand as he cried.

Word Count - 2391