BOSS | NCT

o11

Lucas planned to take me to the Capital today to go shopping.

So we do.

We are on our way now, along with Jungwoo.

Yesterday's events were still fresh in my mind. Our deep conversations. Our shared smiles. I remember every detail, every shared second and every words. The way his long fingers gently comb my hair. The way he frightens me and enlighten me at the same time. The way he called me his. His Nina.

But I guess, just like what Lucas said, his room and the outside place are two different worlds. When we both went out and saw the other members, Lucas' treatment to me was back to just like how he treated me when we first met. I don't feel a connection. Strangers, we are, and so strangers we will be. It's as if the whole thing that we talked about that night never occured. I guess, he's true to his words.

In that room, that odd and haunting and mesmerizing room of his is where we could be 'us'.

No virus. No screwed up government. No hell.

But once we step outside, this messed up world suddenly shows up like a slap in the face.

The truth . . . is a bitter reminder. For me and for him. For the both of us.

We never slept that time. The drug did its part. But we never talked a lot either. I was just there, my head on his lap and his fingers splayed on my hair, stroking it. He turned the television on during our shared silence, playing a movie on the screen.

We both watched together.

It was about a blind man, who lived alone in his house, abandoned by his grandchildren. The last part, a terrifying one, is that he accidentally set his home on fire.

He died.

I cried at the ending of the movie. And I was such a huge wimp to do that.

I shed tears. Stupid, disturbing tears. I know I'm wetting Lucas' thighs. But he never complained

He just stares at the movie, silent and unfaltered. No words shared. No sobs heard. Just Lucas, breathing and perfect, with his hands still on my hair.

Then he stopped.
   Stopped stroking my hair.
   Stopped caressing it.
   Stopped all of a sudden.

I dont want him to stop.

And I 
  stopped breathing,
  stopped crying and
  stopped thinking about,
  everything
  or anything
  or anyone
  not even that damn movie,
  but Lucas only.

He knows I'm crying.

But he didn't ask.

I wonder if he's crying too.