Nam-Il is driving swiftly, overtaking other cars on the highway as the rain starts to fall. He switches on the wipers and mumbles a little curse about the weather, his eyes remaining fixed on the road.

And I'm sitting here curled up in the passenger seat with my arms wrapped around myself, looking out of the window as the world passes by in a blur of motions and the night grows darker.

How much worse could it have gone?

You got what you wanted, Ji-Sung...you've said it to him. Now leave him be. He was right. You know he was right. What he couldn't give you back then, he still can't give you now. That's just not him. You know that. You know that more than anyone.

Then tell me, why is my heart breaking to pieces? Why do I feel like any moment I'm just going to burst into tears?

I was there, in his arms, my face hovering so close to his I could almost kiss him, and I nearly did. And yet his words were a firm rebuff to everything I had to say, his arms holding me apart instead of drawing me in tight. I know he still loves me. I see it in his eyes. He can't hide his feelings from me anymore...he's so much more transparent now than he was back then.

Then why, Nam-Il? Why?

-- I don't want to hurt you anymore.--

You can't be sure of that. There's no fucking way you can be sure of that.

-- I'm not worth crying for.--

And that's what I thought too, Nam-Il. I walked into your door feeling that I was just going to talk to you, to say what I really feel, and get this huge weight off my shoulders. Instead, I lost control and ended up sprawled over you like a desperate little whore, that close to begging you, just begging you to hold me.

What have you done to me? What the fuck have you done to me?

This isn't like me at all. This isn't Park Ji-Sung. Park Ji-Sung isn't supposed to cry like a baby and act so desperate, so ready to throw myself at your feet and do anything you say if that meant I could be with you again. That was pathetic. So very, very pathetic, And yet, I couldn't stop myself from doing it.

I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate you for making me love you so much I couldn't even think straight, I hate you for making me lose all pretense of dignity the moment you asked that question.

-- Why did you come here, Ji-Sung?--

Because of you. Because of you, Nam-Il. Because I miss you and I love you and I hate you and I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me right now.

"I can only take you as far as the parking lot." he says lowly.

"Why?" I ask.

"I can't...I mean, I don't think I should be seen there." he replies.

Great. Now I've stooped so low that he's going to feel ashamed just to be seen with me. Why don't you just rip my heart out of my chest and throw it out the window, Nam-Il? That certainly would make it complete.

"Whatever suits you..." I mutter.

Stop looking at me like that. Don't take pity on me. Don't bother to reflect on the cruel irony of all this, how now I'm the one who's being desperate and you're the one being icy. Maybe this is your revenge, Nam-Il. But no, I don't think so. You're not a vengeful person. You never were.

But I am.

And that's why I ended up with Sang-Chul in the first place. Because I wanted to get back at you. Because I wanted to show you that see, I can find someone who loves me, who fawns over me and adores me and gives me everything I need, and I don't need the likes of you anymore. I don't need the kind of person who would turn me away out of his own bitterness, even when all I tried to do was help him. I don't need you. I have Sang-Chul, and I don't need you.

So look where we are now, huh? How quickly the tables are turned on us.

When we finally pull into the parking lot of the athlete's village, I glance at the clock and saw that it was almost ten at night. Faintly we could hear music from the cultural stage, where they were having their weekend concerts. This one was bound to be special, since it's the last few days of the Asian Games. Rain notwithstanding, there would be a lot of people there, enjoying themselves and having a good time.

Not me. Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.

Nam-Il turns off the engine and glances over to look at me. Somehow, I muster enough courage to look back at him.

"Ji-Sung, listen..." he begins. "If anything I said today hurt you, I'm sorry. It's the last thing I want to do, trust me."

"I know..." I nod.

"It's not that I...I mean, you know I still care for you. You know that."

I nod again, not trusting myself to speak.

"But I just...I don't know if it's going to be better now than it was then, Ji-Sung. I might hurt you again, and I don't want that to happen. Do you understand?"

"Can't you at least try?" I blurt out, unable to hold it back. "Try? For me?"

Nam-Il is taken aback by this question, I can tell by the long pause before he starts to speak again.

"If that means risking you a lot of pain all over again, I'd rather not." he says.

So you're doing all this for me, then. For my own sake. What more can I say?

"Thanks for the ride, Nam-Il." I say flatly, then I reach for the door handle.

"Take my umbrella." he offers. "It's in the back seat."

"No, I'll run." I decline. "It's close enough."

We both get out of the car and I throw him one last forlorn glance across the car hood. He holds my gaze, as if knowing my thoughts, raindrops starting to wet our jackets.

"Goodbye, Nam-Il."

"Goodbye, Ji-Sung."

I turn around and start to walk, weaving my way through the other cars parked in the lot. There was nobody else, just the two of us in the pouring rain as I walk away, away from the only thing I felt was really worth coming here for.

I'm not running. And he's still standing there looking at me. I know he is. I can feel it. He's waiting until I'm safely out of the parking lot and into the village area. Or is he waiting to see if I'll turn back?

-- I'm so proud of you, Ji-Sung.--

Yes, you were. So proud of me.

-- I could've killed him. That was a dangerous tackle.--

You were willing to kill for me. For me.

-- I still care for you. You know that. --

Suddenly my feet stop. I have a nagging, disturbing feeling growing in a pit of my stomach. It's telling me that if I take one step further I'm going to lose something very dear to me. I'm going to lose him. If I give up, if I just nod my head and walk away, I'm going to lose him.

I'm not going to lose him. I'm not going to lose him again.

I turn around and I can see clearly that he's still standing there, watching me. Through the rain, through the wind, I can see his face. He's looking at me.

In a flash I'm running in his direction, not caring if I slip and fall. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters to me now but him. He's there, and I'm not going to lose him. I have to get to him before he disappears from my life again.

The impact of his body against mine is followed by my arms going around him, wrapping around him as tightly as I can manage. And he's holding me-he's really, really holding me. Those strong arms around my back, one large palm at the back of my neck.

"Ji-Sung!" he exclaims, a hushed gasp against my ear.

"Stop telling me all that bullshit about not wanting to hurt me again..." I say through gritted teeth. "Because I don't give a fuck about that."

"Ji-Sung, I..."

"Come with me." I look up to his eyes. His wide, shocked eyes. "Come with me. Be with me...at least tonight."

"I can't go in there, Ji-Sung."

"Yes, you can."

"The guards won't let me in."

"I'll bribe the guards!"

"Ji-Sung!"

I grab his face with both my hands and force him to look at me. "Don't turn me away again!"

I know how those words must hurt him, how it must stir up long-buried memories of an encounter that ended so bitterly, and of a phone call not that long ago...

"I'm not...I'm not..."

"Don't leave me here, Nam-Il...please." I draw his face closer to mine.

"Ji-Sung, I can't..."

In one last desperate attempt, I pull his face in and kiss him, brutally mashing our lips together. At first I sense his shock, then his urge to break free, but I hold him there and work my lips against his, trying to snake my tounge inside his mouth. If he wants to break free, he could simply push me away. He's a lot stronger than me.

I'm ready for him to do that. I'm ready to feel myself being pushed, probably slammed against another car, and probably get a fist in my face after that. Do that, Nam-Il. Do that and kill me all over again. You've already done that once before.

Then, I feel something within him give way. Suddenly he's gripping at me stronger, his mouth starting to respond to my probing tongue. The rain on our bodies is becoming a secondary sensation, a background noise to all the emotions I feel welling up. My eyes are wet. It's not the rain, it's my tears.

Don't you ever try and tell me you're not worth crying for.

That's it, Nam-Il...hold me. I know you want to. Hold me and kiss me and never let me go again. Let me take you in, let me take you inside of me, let us enjoy what we could've had months ago.

Only the need for breath prompts us to part in the end, and when I look into his eyes they bear a confused look, a look of someone not really sure where they stand anymore. That's okay. I'm not sure where I stand, either.

"Ji-Sung..."

I bring our foreheads together and close my eyes, willing the words to come out of my mouth.

"I love you, Nam-Il."

Young-Pyo lost track of how long he'd been sitting there, in the rows of benches inside the athlete village's small Christian chapel. He was alone, accompanied only by the figurines in the altar lit by a dazzling array of candles and colourful overhead lights. The large steel cross behind the altar was decorated with small crystal beads and was lit from below, giving it a majestic appearance.

He liked this place. It gave him comfort. The comfort he'd found so elusive since last night. From a marbeled niche in the wall, the Virgin Mary smiled at him knowingly, the baby Jesus cradled in her arms, peeking from the folds of her robes.

His footsteps had led him here, strangely enough, or perhaps not so. Perhaps he was meant to find this place after all. He'd never been here before, despite having passed in front of it several times. His prayers were more often confined to his own room, with a bible in hand.

"I haven't lost faith in You." he said, his own words echoing in the empty chapel. "But the temptation was there."

Nobody answered him, but he knew someone was listening.

"I kept thinking, why did You let us lose? Why did You take the gold from us?"

Outside the rain was pouring ever harder.

"I know you must have other plans for us, God. For me. I know there must be another meaning behind that loss. I'm probably too messed up to know what it is right now, but I know You'll tell me when You think I'm ready."

He glanced at the cross and its crucified Jesus, head hung between His shoulders.

"I only wish...I only wish you didn't have to punish Dong-Gook, too."

Was this the right thing to say?

"Unlike the others, He may never get another chance-I'm sure You know that. He's over the age limit now, and his only chance will be the World Cup-that is, if we qualify."

-- I'm going off to basic training, Young-Pyo. To start my military service.--

"I wish I could've given him that gold medal, that exemption...I was at fault for thinking badly about him before, and I wanted to make it up to him."

The candles flickered slightly as a wind blew past.

"But I guess...You have other plans for him too, don't You?"

Young-Pyo clasped his hands together tightly and closed his eyes. He felt peace. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, he felt peace.

"I know You're looking after me. You always have, and always will. I only pray that You will not abandon me tomorrow, when we play for the bronze."

He breathed the scent of flowers in the air. The flowers on the altar, he thought. Lilacs. He liked lilacs. They reminded him of his mother.

"Give me strength, God...for without it, I'm nothing."

He opened his eyes again and found the warm glow of the candles a comforting sight.

Then, his phone started ringing.

Cursing, he retrieved the phone from his jacket pocket and checked the number.

It was the same number as the last call that came in. Young-Pyo frowned. It was Tae-Young's number. What the hell was he doing?

"Hello, Tae-Young?"

"Where the hell are you? Get back here immediately!"

"What? Get back where?" Young-Pyo said, puzzled.

"I'm at your apartment block in the village. Get here now!"

Hearing the tone in Tae-Young's voice made his blood run cold. "What? What's wrong?"

"Uke...something's happened to Uke!"