10 | playing with fire

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─── ・ 。゚☆: *

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─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

We, we don't have to worry about nothing. 'Cause we got the fire, and we're burning one hell of a something. They, they gonna see us from outer space, outer space. Light it up, like we're the stars of the human, human race — Burn, Ellie Goulding

🎼

C H A P T E R  T E N

NEW YORK'S HEAT ALWAYS SEEMS TO EMBRACE KEVIN IN A BIG HUG. As the sun lowers in the pink sky coated with streaks of orange sunlight, settling behind cumulus clouds and sailing, time counts down to graduation. Kevin thinks about leaving back home.

Home.

It's foreign as he recalls nothing but playing the piano at a young age.

Only seven years old, he practiced on the bench in his room with determination coursing through his veins, looking at the music sheet for guidance.

He can't remember the last time he felt the magic of the city touch him and uplift him into a spirit of chasing after his dreams. It's the same with New York, except the entertainment industry in Seoul, South Korea is like playing chess. One wrong move and you're knocked out from the competitiveness—checkmate.

If he even wins. What is there to win when one hasn't even started playing the game?

"Kevin," Younghoon says, sitting beside him on the bench. "Does your dad know about that night?" A pause. Kevin's heartbeat accelerates and flashbacks of prom night enter his mind.

His chest feels heavy, anxiety holding him hostage for how his dad might react despite knowing he's a hopeless romantic and his feelings for Jacob.

Kevin knows what Younghoon means. Younghoon waits for Kevin to say something. When there's no response, he holds his hand and squeezes. Kevin glances down, raises his head to look up at him, and Younghoon gives him a soft smile.

"Tell him," Younghoon says with honesty, "When you're ready, though."

"I don't know," Kevin flickers his gaze away to look at the waves of the lake crashing, spotting a seagull soar above. A dainty smile carves on the corner of his mouth as the seagull he was watching dives in front of him, and Kevin opens his palm for the bird to gingerly nibble at the handful of pecans.

Kevin laughs. It tickles.

His heart feels somehow lighter—its wings white and shining in glorious jovial memories.

"It's not that I'm afraid to tell dad about what happened on prom night. I'm scared that the same thing will happen again. He knows when I fall, I fall hard," Kevin shifts his gaze back on Younghoon, holding his umber eyes.

"He's always there for you and will never leave you. We're here for you too, always."

"But someone won't be there to catch me and keep my heart protected," voice trembling, a breath catches in his throat, and his heart clenches.

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