Seonghwa, a tall man with long, dark hair framing his refined features, dragged a chair across his house. The screech could be heard throughout the building. His roommate glared at him through narrowed eyes as he sat himself down one metre from the main door. "What are you doing?" Hongjoong, the man with his nose in a book and his eyes on Seonghwa was curious and confused.
"I'm waiting," Seonghwa replied quietly. "It's been a while now." Eyes fixated on the door, he sat still.
Hongjoong sighed. "It's not going to happen today." He glanced towards the big silver disc that hung above their grey marble fireplace. It had twelve black markings. "It's almost eleven at night. Go to bed."
"It'll happen, Hongjoong," Seonghwa said, "I know it." He kept his unmoving gaze on the white door before him, every bit of himself hoping for the result he wanted. "Just wait."
"No, it's not happening." The man in the kitchen with his coffee mug groaned and rolled his eyes. "You need sleep. It'll be three in the morning before you know it, and you'll just have let yourself down again."
Seonghwa didn't move. "It's going to happen. They're coming home." He held stars in his eyes, each one like the ones upon which little children wish. He wished hard, he wished long, he wished desperately. "They're coming home," Seonghwa whispered. "They promised."
"It's been a year." Hongjoong strolled over to the living room and sat down on the sofa, three metres from his friend. "I'd have given up by now." He sipped his coffee.
"They're going to come back soon. It's going to be today." Seonghwa waited patiently. The silver clock ticked away and Hongjoong had left soon after his comment. Seonghwa sat still as ever. He looked like an ice carving—smooth and refined, a sparkle only found if one looked hard enough. "Please come home."
The clock read four-o'-clock and the house was deadly silent, save for Hongjoong's snores and Seonghwa's shallow breaths. His eyelids were heavy and they fell so often, but he pinched himself and opened his eyes. He stared intently at the door.
"Any minute now."
Floorboards creaked and his heart raced, the warm flow of hope running through his veins. The footsteps that sounded in his ears made his heart feel fuzzy and his head spin. This was it. He couldn't sit still.
"You're still up?" Hongjoong's voice made him turn. Lights went on to reveal Seonghwa's housemate leaning against a wall, peering at him though drowsy eyes and ruffled black hair. "What time is it?" He stumbled towards the oven clock.
Seonghwa looked down. The warmth he had felt vanished the moment he heard Hongjoong's voice. He looked back up at the unmoving door, praying for it to burst open with the one who made a promise behind it.
Nothing happened and Seonghwa sighed. With long, heavy movements, he grabbed Hongjoong away from the oven at which he was squinting. Seonghwa dragged his friend back down the hallway to their rooms, heart full of lead and head full of promises.
