These Lonely Nights (Hwang Hyunjin)

III. I'd do the same for anyone.

"Maybe I should make you a spare key."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. Tonight, he is wearing black instead of his usual lighter colors, with dark blue jeans and his hair curled back behind his ears. It suits him more than I'd like to admit—I'd also rather not admit that I stayed up for him, no longer having homework as an excuse. But I did have things to do, like cleaning. And laundry. And ... other things. Staying up two and a half hours past when I usually go to bed to clean the bathroom and fold my fitted sheets is perfectly normal, right? Right. I do that all the time.

"Very funny," he snipes, though he says it to the wall, so it doesn't really have the desired impact. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing the point where the curve of his throat meets his collarbones. I clear my throat and decide the wall looks very interesting right about now.

"Where were you tonight?"

Hyunjin pushes his tongue into his cheek. "I'm ... not sure."

Lovely. Except I can't really judge him for it anymore, now that I know his reasons behind drinking—know that it's not the same foolish release so many of our classmates drown their lives in. Instead, I hold the door to my room open wider in response, a gesture for him to come in.

He eyes it ruefully, but he's swallowed this particular pill before and we both know it. As he brushes past me I think eating your pride must be bitter the first time, but by now I bet he thinks it tastes like honey.

Each step he takes inside is far too confident than they should be considering none of them are in a straight line. It's maybe for that reason why he steps a little too close, and I get a whiff of cheap alcohol. A cold shiver rattles down my back, and I step back involuntarily, pressing my spine against the door.

"To be clear, I'm not coming in here because I need your help holding my hair back while I vomit," he announces.

I cross my arms, focusing away from the memories and onto the present. "Oh?"

"I'm here," he says, looking around then back at me, "because I need to make sure your room is secure."

My eyebrows raise. We both know he's spewing bullshit, but I'll allow it for his dignity's sake (what's left of it, anyway). "Secure?"

"Yes," he says indignantly. "From drunk assholes who could get into your room and put you in danger."

I snort. "You're definitely not putting me in danger in this state."

He frowns, but he knows he can't deny it. I doubt Hyunjin could seriously hurt a snail right now. He'd probably end up injuring himself instead.

Not that he's going to admit that. "Not only could they put you in danger, but they could also woo you into letting them into your room."

"You're not wooing me."

"I'm not?" Hyunjin grins wryly. "Because it looks to me like you were waiting for a ... certain someone tonight."

I was, but I'll be damned before I admit that to either of us. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Then tell me, Jiyu—" he pauses, drawing out my name, and for some reason it sounds different on his lips, and I think of words on sand and dinner plates—"Where are your math problems, or your physics textbook?" He prances over to my desk, clicking his tongue at the lack of papers there. "Where is the show you were watching, then, or the popcorn?" Now he's at the couch, peering down at it with mock concentration. "A friend, perhaps, who you were hanging out with? No?" He turns back to me, grinning lazily. "There's just me. A rugged-handsome prince, capturing your fancy with my stunning good looks, making you so lovesick you let me into your humble abode. It's almost as if I ... what's the word..." he snaps his fingers. "That's it. It's almost as if I wooed you."