That night brainless Jung Daehyun had imprudence to profess they were friends.

Basically, that night he took on a duty of imitating fake friendship relationships, right? Something like casual chatting about weather and gas prices, right?

If brainless Jung Daehyun were like that Youngjae would let him go.

But guess what he did instead?

He ignored.

This malformed human being complains his malnutrition to Jungup, he discusses his new car’s values and  disadvantages with Himchan and pays no attention to Youngjae except answering his operative requests with short “Done coding. Something else?”

God damn him.

Youngjae’s white leatherette boot is tapping a mess of wires underneath his desk once again so absentmindedly.

Just because Youngjae is busy with inventing ways to make brainless Jung Daehyun suffer. Ones that will please Youngjae the most.

He likes things to be neat and clean and simple. Yet effective.

“There are some scratches”, explains Jung to Himchan. “Choosing accurate color match of enamel paint won’t be difficult for a white car, will it? Or should I better treat it at auto painting service?”

That tenderness talkative Daehyun speaks about his car with makes Himchan massage his temple with index fingers.

 “Of course do auto painting”, says Youngjae aloud.

The more money will he spent on that car the better.

There is surprised look on Daehyun’s face.

“If you get caught”, says Youngjae in a very cool voice, “I won’t be able to help you out”.

“Got it”, nods Junhong. He talls above Youngjae’s head for another 10 centimeters or so, that’s why he has to bend a bit over Youngjae’s slender figure.

The older’s counting banknotes in a whisper, “One, two, three, four… that’s it”

Youngjae passes money to the boy. They are in the doorway of Youngjae’s apartment so one may think Junhong is a delivery boy or something.

That there is nothing criminal involved.

“Got it”, repeats Junhong, “But as long as… this terms… Another one as insurance would do perfect”.

He manages to slip one more banknote  out of Youngjae’s right hand.

He looks like a happy dog waving greetings to the master with his tale.

“Lil brat”, hisses Youngjae.

“Brather”, corrects Junhong. “Your beloved little brother”.

He waves goodbye as he turns around to the stairs.

Indeed. If he were not his cousin Youngjae would throw a slipper in his head.

It’s raining.

It’s almost raining cats and dogs.

For the first time in his entire life Youngjae is fond of cataclysm happening outside. Because of rain there is barely light on the streets, only dull dark evening sky behind office windows.

Himchan is looking for his umbrella cursing quietly until Youngguk comes in to ask if he needs a ride.

They live somewhat near. Or there is something more.

There always is something more than bad weather but bad weather is such an excuse.

“Whoa!” says Himchan arranging his stuff on the desk. “You’re a lifesaver”

Small satisfied smile crawls out onto Youngguk’s lips but he’s asking, “Aren’t you guys going home?” apparently addressing Daehyun and Youngjae.

“Yeah”, nods Daehyun, busy with something at his screen. “Just a minute”

That’s a warning for Youngjae to get up, too.

He parts ways with his boss Himchan and Himchan’s boss Youngguk at parking. He’s looking over all the cars there until he gets that white oldie Mercedes baby at the corner.

Daehyun walks pathway around building energetically, the collar of his coat up.

Youngjae lets out a small, delicate smile before he gets into his car.

Soon enough he sees Daehyun starts running. Jung stops near Mersedes, shocked, wounded at the very heart of his, watching his white car baby being molested.

He puts his hands up and then moves like he is Thor throwing thunderbolts.

Youngjae turns the engine on and drives off the line of parked cars keeping that delicate smile on his lips.

Tires of his car rustle over wet asphalt as he slowly stops near Mersedes.

“Someone is mad at you”, notices Youngjae out of his side window.

Every one of four car’s tires is stubbed. The Mersedes looks like an illustration of sacrilege.

There is a sign “Like it, yeah?” made over windscreen with black aerosol paint.

“I don’t even know who might do it”, says Daehyun.

His voice is more than whining. He sounds like he’s gonna cry.

Youngjae does scornful “Woah” indicating he is more than sure there are a lot of people hating brainless Jung Daehyun to death.

That he’s not the only one.

“Anyways”, says Youngjae to Daehyun who is still in process of ripping out his hairs looking for any other damage done to his precious car. “Wanna me to drive you home?”

Daehyun’s coat is completely wet at the shoulders and so are his hairs.

“Yeah”, Daehyun finally realizes he’s standing under severe rain coming down from heavens above as mercilessly as it sends injustice to those who do not deserve it at all. Finally he manages to believe he has to cope with it whoever did it. That’s an injustice… That’s such an injustice. Daehyun frowns and gets in Youngae’s car, “Thank you… Really, thank you for your help”

There is all of a sudden so much in his voice… Gratefulness, pure and sincere.

Youngjae starts his car again watching Daehyun with curiosity:  his gaze is glued to white shape of Mersedes as if he’s leaving a dead comrade on a battlefield.

“Will it cost too much?” asks Youngjae leaning forward and through Daehyun’s knees to get a charger from a glovebox of his car.

His voice is sympathizing.

“I think”, Daehyun answers weakly. He watches pathway of a street outside with depressed look on his face. “Thank you once again for dropping me”

He gets out of the car and Youngjae quietly says “Bye” to the back of his coat where wet stains spreaded wider. Then Youngjae grins and looks down at the black smartphone in his right hand. He stole it few seconds ago from Daehyun’s coat pocket.

Brilliant. Crafty Youngjae’s hands.

Crooked by the weight of troubles on his shoulders Daehyun steps out of elevator like 80-years old and slowly approaches his door.

His eyes becoming lakes. Huge lakes mirroring disbelief like normal lakes mirror sunshine.

There is a sign “Like it?” across the door of his apartment made by same black spray paint.

“Goddamn!” shouts Daehyun. He rushes to the door and pushes it but to his utmost relief it’s still locked.

So whatever son of the did it at least the apartment isn’t robbed. Daehyun’s a man. He’ll survive stupid black paint sign no matter how it taunts his pride.

He inserts his key in door’s keyhole but something doesn’t let it in. He bends over the lock and peeps into the keyhole with his squinty eye.

“ers! F-f-ers! -E-R-S!!!”

Daehyun’s mad.

There is gum. Goddamn chewing gum filling all free space of his poor door’s keyhole.

“Damn it! Damn it!”

Daehyun jumps as an outraged kid if front of his poor beloved door. Then he stops, sighs and reaches for his phone…

He has to find someone to break the door so he could sleep at HIS OWN BED tonight, not at the stairs like a beggar.

But his smartphone is gone. Nowhere to be found.

Daehyun checks his coat’s pockets, double checks his jeans pockets.

“Damn! Goddamn!”

That’s too much to bear for a human being. Completely discouraged he lets himself leak down, his spine wiping door’s surface (someone, please, pray black spray dried or he’ll be unlucky beyond any border having his coat stained) like his body is some sort of jelly.

Yeah, right: he’s not a human anymore, he’s a jelly crying about his smartphone left in Youngjae’s car (Daehyun is smart enough to figure out the place he’s lost it) but… what is he supposed to do?

Without his car and his phone? Locked outside his apartment?

There is a cautious sound of someone stepping up the stairs.

Daehyun’s grumpy, Daehyun’s small and needy pet left outside a door.

Daehyun’s in despair and not willing to listen to any spicy comments about his situation.

Silently he watches white leatherette boots approaching him until Youngjae lets out shocked  “Woah…” observing besmeared door behind Daehyun’s back.

“Someone is VERY mad at you”, he says with sorrow obvious in his tone. He passes Daehyun his smartphone oddly touching him with cold fingers.

Youngjae takes a seat beside him.

Daehyun shivers and takes the gadget in, staring at it as if he witnessed a wonder and yet it’s not enough to make him believe again.

“I can’t get in”, explains Daehyun. He nodes backwards, pointing at the door, and makes a face similar to that of a bitten puppy.  His eyes are big, brown and watery as he’s watching Youngjae like… like he’s searching for some sign on younger’s face. He sighs, “It’s cold out there”.

Youngjae always knew he was a whimper.

“Get up”, he commands suddenly. He even pushed Daehyun’s elbow up until the whimper is standing onto his two own jelly feet. “You’re sleeping at my place tonight”

There is look of disbelief at Daehyun’s face. So deep, so profound, almost religious awe.

It’s easily explained: everyone knows Youngjae is simply evil. He doesn’t help people no matter what.

“C’mon”, says Youngjae punching Daehyun’s elbow once again. “Breaking the door’s lock will cost you like hell as an emergency… Besides you need papers proving you’re breaking into your own apartment”

Youngjae is well aware he’s unwilling to accept his help.

They AREN’T friends first of all. HE is the only one demonstrating they are anything but friends.

Yet the whole scheme was designed to…

“I know”, says Daehyun. “Well… If I’m not too much of a burden for you…”

“Nope”, reassures Youngjae, voice calm and confident.

“Then let it be”, Daehyun smiles, now having even more in common with a puppy. A happy, joyful brown-eyed puppy.

Didn’t Youngjae tell he was a windy person?

They go down the stairs and it’s short before they’re outside when Daehyun asks, “Can we have something… something solid for a dinner? I got hungry when I’m nervous”

“Sure”, nods Youngjae keeping to himself that tiny smile again.

There is nothing evil in the curve of his lips just… like he’s amused by freak-outs of Daehyun’s puppy nature.

“You’re a lifesaver”, purrs Daehyun. He coils spaghetti around his fork with expression of bliss in his happy eyes and puts it in his mouth with enjoyment of professional eater. He doesn’t look like a person whose car was ruined and he himself was deported from his own apartment.

Windy.

“Sure”, says Youngjae. “You owe me that useless life of yours”

First Daehyun’s eyes widen with surprise, then he laughs, “All of my useless guts are yours”.

He starts liking Youngjae’s malicious sense of humor. He’s too much a good natured pacifist to fight over being called ‘useless’.

His mouth consumes another gigantic portion of spaghetti.

Champ-champ.

That sound of someone eating that loud is known as unpleasant and irritating. And still…

Youngjae watches his guest bent over his plate with narrow attentive eyes. Not a slightest sign of affection is present in his expression. Not an obvious sign on his forehead saying “I wish you choked over that spaghetti”.

Nothing.

Just a curiosity of a puppeteer. Or dignity of an old clever cat observing a little stupid (brainless) mouse heading towards where he’s set his tramps.

Beyond all expectations the door bell rings. Someone must be pressing it with his boot making it unbelievably loud and irritating.

When Youngjae opens the door Junghong rushes in without an invitation.

“Seen that?” he asks, splashing his enthusiasm all over the place. “How nicely did I? Like it? Like it? YEA-A-A-H!!!”

Something inside Youngjae’s  guts swells.

The kid is galloping through the hall towards kitchen, kicking off his sneakers.

“You didn’t asked me to but I kinda think that ‘Like it?’ stuff is gonna blow poor man’s mind…”

Junhong nearly dies from heart attack when he sees that very poor man at Youngjae’s kitchen chewing spaghetti. Mind is not blown at all and any other part of his body attached to the right place.

“But…” mumbles Junhong.

His long-long deer’s eyelashes are flipping as Yongjae comes in.

“Wow”, says Junhong.

His gaze is intense. With his surprised eyes he surely blames Youngjae for duplicity. Also he’s particularly interested in Daehyun.

Youngjae is also very anxious. How much Daehyun is able to get from boastful Junhong’s  speech?

Pinned by two weird looks Daehyun feels far from comfortable. He stands up.

“Sorry, if I interrupted something”, apologizes Junhong playing his eyebrows.

“Aren’t you lovey-dovey now?” asks his face expression.

Youngjae rolls his eyes. He’s not an idiot.

Daehyun suspects nothing.

He introduces weirdo kid to Daehyun, “Junhong is my brother-in-law” and takes an advantage of his command voice. Meaningful intonation keeps Junhong obedient and silent while he lies “He does street dancing. He has a dance battle today”

Junhong might not be the brightest kid in the universe but he’s quick to comprehend that: for the sake of his life he should lie.

Besides, that lie is not a total lie. He’s indeed a student in a dance school. Dancing is his life.

Junhong suddenly turns around, making some twisted dance move, yelling “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Like it?”

“Wow”, gasps Daehyun stepping back from Junhong’s fist which missed his noose just a 10 centimeters.

The lie is now covered safely. Daehyun probably thinks that whole “Like it?” thing is a feature of kid’s dance.

The very dangerous for nooses of those around.

“Aren’t you going home, Junie?” asks Youngjae, a threat masked by unnatural softness in his voice.

“Nah”, the nasty kid shakes his head. “There are spaghetti!”

“There are your mother to cook you meals”, acidly reminds Youngjae.

“She nurses tonight”, melancholically replies Junhong as he lends a bottle of sauce from Daehyun. “Besides…”

His little childish face turns evil. Daehyun thinks he looks like an elf-troublemaker.

“Besides”, repeats thoughtful Junhong. “You’re so mad at me… Am I ruining your dirty plans about Daehyun or what?”

Blushing like he was caught up blood-stained Youngjae hisses “What are you talking about?” while Daehyun simply laughs.

Maybe that allusion sounds absurd to him because he shrugs, “There are no plans. Youngjae just helped me out tonight…”

“I can imagine HOW MUCH did he help you”, mumbles Junhong over his spaghetti.

He mocks Youngjae with provocative glance.

“We… we simply work together”, Daehyun shrugs again. “At the same office”.

It should be clear that there is nothing between him and Youngjae. Was nothing. Until this night at least.

“Is Youngjae your boss?” asks Junhong with innocence in his big childish eyes.

“No”, replies Daehyun.

“Is Youngjae someone’s boss?” Junhong adjusts his question.

Daehyun’s glance at Youngjae is certainly apologetic. Then he giggles, “I’m afraid, no”

“I knew…” sighs Junhong. “Why on earth does he always have that bossy look at his face?”

“I dunno”, Daehyun can’t stop giggling and keeps on apologizing with his eyes.

Pissed off beyond any border of his temper Youngjae rolls his eyes, throws kitchen towel at Junhong’s face and leaves the room with all possible dignity.

Daehyun looks Junhong in the eyes. He can guess easily that this kid is a prankster, his relatives’ pain in the a55 but… Daehyun likes him. His smirk. The way he can consume a ton of spaghetti just like him.

Also Daehyun can’t help but sympathizes Youngjae who (he never knew) has a brother to throw towels at.

That attitude of his is worthy of respect. Like Youngjae just doesn’t care about stupid things Junhong says. He just… throws a towel at him.

Youngjae is fun.

Junhong is like a Brazilian carnival. To usher him out Youngjae have to dance him all the way down through the hall performing weirdo ecstatic moves with his upper body.

When Junhong reaches the door Youngjae shuts it open.

Then immediately he kicks the kid out.

“But…” says Junhong.

Youngjae shuts the door closed.

“Aha-ha-hah”

Daehyun is standing in kitchen doorway, his hands crossed on his chest.

“That was amazing”, he comments. “You are amazing at throwing kids out”

 “Where have you seen kids?” asks Youngjae innocently. “That was a monster”

Nonetheless. In Daehyun’s opinion Youngjae was… simply amazing.

Youngjae catches curious eyes studying his face and… Daehyun’s interest makes him feel a bit uneasy.

“Go take a shower first”, he suggests. “I’ll bring you some clothes to change”

“Sure”, says Daehyun. “Thank you”

There is something broken in the way emotions are showed at Youngjae’s eyes. Like he’s stopping whenever he’s pressed to open up.

That makes him unreadable.

Finally there is wide disgusting Grinch’s smile on Youngjae’s lips: he’s picked up a T-shirt for Daehyun.

There is was, at the very bottom of the pile.

That will suit him perfectly: it’s pink, it’s worn out, it’s stained and has an image of Donald Duck.

“Hey”, says Youngjae. He softly taps bathroom curtain to draw Daehyun’s attention to his presence in the room.

“Yeah”, says curtain.

The noise of water falling makes any sound bubbling.

“I’ve brought your clothes… Here they are”

Youngjae could just left it there. There was no need of talking through the curtain.

Yet something just draws him closer to the other man. Like a magnet. Less of curiosity more of a need to feel his shyness when Daehyun softly says, “Thank you”

Youngjae thinks he has been standing there frozen, immovable under hot shower splatters until Youngjae left the room.

“I changed my bed clothing just yesterday, so…”

“Wait”, Daehyun feels obliged to confront. “I can sleep on the sofa. I SHOULD be the one sleeping on the sofa…”

“Well…” mumbles Youngjae.

That’s not what he prepared for him.

He planned Daehyun would toss and turn in his sheets sleepless choking on the aroma of Youngjae’s shower gel (of course he lied about changing his bed-linen). That goddamn programmer would simply be suffocated by the smell of his body.

That Youngjae would be missed forever after.

That Daehyun would be grateful forever after to a person who was not his friend in the first place.

“Well”, repeats Youngjae, “I’ve got bad sleeping habits. I usually fall asleep watching TV late into the night, so I’d personally prefer sleeping on the sofa”

“Oh”, says Daehyun with sympathy easily reading in his voice. “Okay, then… But can I stay with you for a while and watch TV, too?”

“Sure”, shrugs Youngjae.

That tiny neat smile is there again.

Long after midnight both of them are still there. Youngjae doesn’t watch TV. He watches Daehyun.

He yawns. He smiles. He scratches himself like a dog would. He drinks tea.

In the darkness screenflashes dance on his face.

Himchan could be an illustration of man’s grace, he could be a model, aesthetical symbol of masculine beauty belonging to covers of popular magazines.

 Daehyun also is a sample. The sense is clean inside Youngjae’s chest and almost as sharp as it’s about Himchan.

Daehyun is an icon of life itself, young and blooming, ill-mannered yet charming. That flow of bursting energy that’s running through his body beneath pink Donald Duck T-shirt urges Youngjae to lean forward and touch his shoulder.

Pat his protruding ear.

But he doesn’t.

Daehyun could be a puppy.

His big brown eyes are watery from lack of sleep when he finally says “G’night” disappearing behind Youngjae’s bedroom door.