“So where’s the rabbit?”

I lead Kyungsoo into my condominium while having my slightly disappointed expression. He didn’t have anything on his hands to which I have expected to have the rabbit cage or something. “The rabbit I was performing a research on showed distress through its aggressive behavior. I had to give it a calmative therefore, I couldn’t bring it.” He explains. “O—kay?” I smile while scratching my head.

So it indeed went berserk?

Ugh, poor bunny.

“Why do you think it got distressed?” I ask and we went to the couch. He sat down first before speaking. “Rabbits are social creatures. Companionship is the key to their welfare. Its companion was brought to a different lab just yesterday to be treated causing distress to her.” I smile at the explanation. “Aww~ she misses her boyfriend!” I chant and clasp my hands together.

“They’re not together nor procreating, I don’t let them. They were both in my lab but in different cages but still, they could see each other.” He explains and I pout in response. “Why aren’t you letting them if they’re in love??” I whine making him flinch in surprise. “Animals, except humans, are irrational, it is impossible for them to even comprehend the feeling of love nor to be aware what they are in general.” He answers back.

“How about you? Could you comprehend?” I tease and wiggle my eyebrows. “I am a rational being and of course, I could.” He answers. “Oh really?” I ask and purposely moved closer while giving off my cute smile. “Kidding~” I back away when I saw his uncomfortable expression. I stood and turned to him with my bright smile. “I made spaghetti with meatballs. Is that alright?” I ask. He stood up and fixed his suit.

“Yes, of course.” He answers. So side by side, we walk to my dining table which was connected to the kitchen as well. “Just be comfortable, I’m the only one living here anyway. Take a seat~” I offer a chair which he took politely. I walk to the kitchen counter and took our plates. “How about you? Do you live with your parents?” I ask. “No, I don't. I moved out when I was twenty to pursue my studies alone in the States before going back here.” He answers. “Wow~ that is impressive. You must be rich huh?” I tease. Walking back to the table, I place the plate, spoon and fork there in front of him.

He begins arranging it neatly, the spoon and fork placed on either sides of the plate. He grabbed a table napkin from the center of the table and wiped the plate. Uhm. . . alright? He’s very neat? “Okay?” I chuckle softly before walking to the fridge. “What kind of soda would you like? I have. . . Coke, Sprite, and I also have Milkis if you want?” I ask. He turns to me. “You have all kinds of carbonated beverages? They all have the same content and the same effect in one’s body.” He says.

“Strongly disagree. They taste different.” I said and took out a bottle of coke. “Of course they would taste different but the content, I mean is exa—“Yes, you want water.” I cut him off and forced a smile. “You really seem to like food rich in carbohydrates.” He said. I just looked away and grabbed two glasses. “Yeah, maybe I do.” I answer absently and went back to the table. I sit across him.

He was looking at me seriously.

“What?” I ask. I felt bugged off at how he judges my eating – it was obvious on his face. “You’re depressed.” He tells. “Nope, I’m not.” I answer back quickly and pour him some water on his glass. “I’m not asking. I am stating that you are depressed.” He repeats. “Carbohydrate craving is related to decreases in the feel-good hormone serotonin, which is clear by a decline in mood and concentration. Perha—“I said I’m not depressed.” My voice turns firm and I slam the glass down harshly on the table.

I look away as I realize what I did. “Y-you should eat.” I grab the serving spoon on the pasta platter and began placing an amount on his plate but as much as possible, I tried avoiding his eyes. “I’m just here.” He speaks making me stop. His voice was gentle and it makes my heavy heart calm down again. I slowly put the serving spoon down for a while and the atmosphere was quiet. Two days of seeing each other and he’s already flattering me a lot of times.

“Really?” I ask. “Yes. For that reason, you don’t have to shout. We’re a meter across each other.” He answers and that’s when my face came back. “EAT.” I say firmly before darting my eyes down to my own plate and put an amount of food on it as well. When we started eating, I remain looking down my food because I might just kill him if our eyes meet.

“Iseul, could you—“No, you won’t talk.” I cut him off as quickly as possible. “—pass the water pitcher?” He still managed to finish his sentence despite my threat. I groan, not even caring if he hears it, and push the pitcher to his side. What shocked me was when he poured some water on my glass. I was mad a second ago. That was a second ago. Two days of seeing this guy and I have gone weird as much as I don’t want to be.

As he pour the water, I glare at him. “What are you doing?” I ask still with my cold voice. He briefly gazed at me and without any word, pours back the water on the glass to the pitcher again. I glare much harder. “Why did you put it back again??” I interrogate. “You’re not only depressed, you’re indecisive.” He said and again, poured water on the glass before sitting back comfortable on his chair again.

This guy.

Ugh!

I want to get mad at him.

But I can’t.

“I said I’m not depressed.” I said and frowned hard. He didn’t answer back anymore but instead, put his palms up like he was surrendering. “I would not say you’re depressed anymore although I still think you are.” He said and that made me put a fist up threatening to hit him. He didn’t budge. “Fine. What is it to you if I’m depressed then?” I ask. I completely stop eating and lean on the chair having my arms folded.

He does the same.

“I shall find your other coping strategies aside eating too much. Because that doesn’t cover up your depression and would only kill you and if you die, do you know what will happen to your body? It will gradually decay and you’re—“Ugh! Stop stop stop! What the hell??” I cover my ears and glare at him.

Here he goes again saying such stuff while eating.

He just stares at me like he was waiting for me to think. “Okay, fine. How would you do it Mr. Smarty?” I gave in. I don’t know but he’s slowly making me be concerned about myself. He put his fork down and clasped his hands together on the edge of the table. He’s like a professor ready to start the day with discussion. “The study of coping methods has a long history. It was originally described by psychodynamic psychotherapists, including my favorite person Dr. Freud, who called them defense mechanisms. The defe—“Sir.” I raise my hand like a student.

“Yes?” He asks. What the hell, did he play along? I meant to be sarcastic, but oh well. “Could we just jump onto the coping thingy cause to be honest, you’re speaking alien again and I don’t understand a thing.” I said. “Very well. . .” He said and sighed. “Having the chance to observe you last night and right now, they’re slightly obvious already. They include, denial, acting out and fantasy.” He said. “Say what?” I ask, my eyes blinking slowly.

“To make it simpler. . .” He takes a bite on his pasta again. “By the way, this tastes pleasant.” He said while chewing. “Hell yeah. Of course it does. Continue.” I nod and I took a bite too, mirroring what he just did. “Let’s cut it short into two.” He put his right hand up then his left followed, like he was grasping on something. I raise an eyebrow while looking at his palms. “You look like you’re groping some .” I said and he put it down and gave me that mortified glare.

“What I want to say is that. . . it can be cut short into two defenses. How many orders do you get in a day?” He then asks while continuing to eat. “Well. . . it depends. When it’s a holiday, I can get up to ten or more orders. In a daily basis, maybe half of it.” I answer. “Alright. What time do you start baking and when you’re all done with all the orders, what do you do?” He asks. While chewing, I look up.

“I usually start right away but if I get the calls at night, I start the next day at three in the morning. When I’m done with all of them. . . I check my online site again to see if there’s more orders, then I take pictures of the pastries and send it to the people or stores who ordered to show them. . . or I will try out new recipes while waiting.” I explain all in all.

“You’re workaholic.” He said. “No, I’m not.” I said. I don’t think I am. My work’s not even that complicated. “Denial.” He points at me. “No, I’m not—Yah. You’re playing with my head.” I said. “I am not playing with your head. Alright then, tell me why’d you have to try new recipes again after finishing the orders? You could have chosen to rest for a little while.” He then asks. “Because I know I need to add some in my cook book. I will need them in the future so I do it beforehand.” I explain.

“No, it’s because you feel good about it and get distracted. You do it with emotional grounds. Bingo. Rationalization and Workaholism.” He tells with finality. I just stared at him with my heavy eyes. “You know?” I ask and move a bit closer. “I don’t.” He answers. “Well of course you don’t—that I hate you right now.” I said with a firm tone making him flinch a bit. “I am only concerned about your well-being. You are not my girlfriend yet but with the understanding of our agreement which at the moment I still consider you as ‘not my girlfriend’ I will still care.” He tells making me speechless.

But I try to suppress the urge to like what he said.

He might add something else again. I don’t want to take the risk.

But then, he doesn’t say anything.

“Kyungsoo, for a second, would you be honest with me. Say something from the heart about this. . . this agreement we have. Don’t speak literally. Speak like a human being for a second. Are you into me? Because ever since last night you’re confusing me. Yes or no? You choose. I need to hear something that came from the heart at least once before I let myself continue into this because I don’t want to get hurt. So choose.” I said. The atmosphere suddenly turns silent. He grabs the table napkin and wiped his mouth.

“Alright then.” He speaks. I shudder at how he looks at me right now. “Something from the heart?” He asks and I hesitantly nodded. “Iseul. . .” He starts and I unknowingly clasp my hands together under the table. “I need you.” He tells. His voice wasn’t even stuttered. “A-alright. . . why?” I ask. “Because I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.” He said.

I gulp.

Oh my god.

My heart is thumping so fast.

His eyes were fixated on mine. He must be tired of being alone? And. . . he chose me? “Kyungsoo.” I call. “Yes?” He asks, his voice digs deep into my soul. “T-that was. . . that was beautiful.” I said. “I agree. That was my favorite line in the Lord of the Rings movie.” He answers and that's when my face fell.

“Do Kyungsoo.” I call, my voice turns deep and subtle. “Yes?” He asks. “What if I do have a very serious kind of depression and I murder people?” I ask. “Well. . . that would be a different case. There’s a lot of mental illness—“AND YOU’RE THE FIRST VICTIM!” I shout making him jump on his chair. “What did I do?” He asks while blinking.

I laugh sarcastically like a madman. “What did you do? What did you do??” I ask. “May I ask why’d you say the same sentence twice but with different intonations?” He asks hesitantly and I slam my hand on the table making him flinch again. “I almost fell for you and you just freaking gave me a damn line from a damn movie??” I ask. “Lord of the Rings is not damn. Good Lord, Han Iseul, are you human? That is the best movie ever created on this planet.” He defenses.

I flop back down the chair while still gritting my teeth in anger.

“I told you to say something from the heart.” I hiss. “I did. It came from Arwen’s heart when she said it to Aragorn an—“I don’t care!” I cut him off. It got silent for a while, he just looked at me as I pant. I suddenly feel worn out. “Kyungsoo, I don’t know. I don’t know if this will work.” I say while shaking my head. He looks away but he was still expressionless. “You keep on. . . giving me false hopes. Do you even have feelings? Because I do. And this won’t work if it’s only one person who feels.” I continue.

“Very well. . .” he stands up still not looking at me. “It was a pleasure, Miss Han Iseul.” He politely bowed before walking away. I didn’t even have to lead him because he just went straight to the front door and left. When the door shut close, I turn to it with a frown.

I shouldn't feel bad. I should be relieved.

It won’t work out. . .