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Before she even knows how to pronounce the word, Joohyun’s life is nothing but cliché.

She’s the daughter of this rich, respected family that grew up with nannies because her parents were too busy to care. Her social circles are either those who know how to spend daddy money by partying every day, or the good-girl type that follows their parents T&C and dreams. (To everyone else, she’s very much in the latter circle).She plays by the rules, she does exactly what’s expected of her. One day, she will be set up into an arranged marriage. She read books. She wears dresses. Straight-A student. She plays piano. Cliché this. Cliché that.

So, here’s the thing. There’s only so much of clichés you can stand until you want a break-out. Joohyun is at that limit now. She never screamed an OH MY GOD on the top of her lung because her life is all planned-out, all the same routine that there’s no room for an OH-MY-GOD-worthy moment. She never experiences a crush because all boys around her seem to come out from the same mold—polo shirt, play golf, -gentleman. She never breaks a rule to save her parents’ faces. She never fights anyone because her mold is demure. And she never kisses. . .

(Okay, she had her first kiss. And it was so long ago she likes to doubt she ever had it. And she likes to doubt she ever had it because it was one of her most terrifying and psychologically-damaging memories. There were only two mouths but it felt like seven against one. She was bathed in saliva by the end of it. She bathed so technically, she never kissed.)

She wants out. She wants something happened. She wants to freak out. She wants to be genuinely surprised at something. She wants anything out of ordinary.

Here’s another thing. Be careful of what you wished for.

Ting.

Dark.

Smoke.

Pain.

Blur.

Ting.

Voice. “Thank God. You’re awake. I’m so done talking to Siri.”

Joohyun groans as she shifts. Her head is heavy and throbbing, like it is stuffed with a detonating bomb wrapped in cotton. is dry she has no spit to swallow. She blinks until recognition comes in pieces. She’s in a dark room but there’s a streak of sunlight gleams through the small windows. She’s on a queen-sized bed. She still has a body; her limbs are in full-set so she’s pretty sure she’s not dying. She’s still wearing clothes—a dress she wore to the library . . . yesterday? This morning? 

She tries to recognize the place. She tries to remember anything before this place. She comes up with nothing. The only thing she remembers is someone was talking. She turns her head to bottom left.

Oh my god.

She’s not alone. She’s with a guy—a stranger. She sits upright and then she realized she’s in handcuffs.

Oh. My. God.

Her heartbeat picks up a rushing tempo. “W-where am I?” She asks, her voice hoarse. She frantically looks around. It looks like a place someone actually lives in, but the dim light makes it appear to be a little too shady. She glances at the guy, who sits on a chair at the kitchen (it doesn’t really look like a kitchen but that’s where the food is) and he’s having a bottle of beer. “Who are you?”

“Good question, Petal. I’m Yixing. I’m a lost man on the run and I’m your kidnapper. Nice to meet you.” He smiles and tips up his bottlelike they are supposed to celebrate.

“You kidnapped me?!” She shrieks. She shrieks! The last time she shrieks was probably two years ago when she ran into a cockroach. And that tells a lot about how dull her life is.

“Another good question, although I made it pretty clear already. Yes, Petal. I kidnapped you this morning.” He takes a swig of his drink. “You made it easy. You were alone and vulnerable. You didn’t even scream. It’s not as thrilling as I wanted it to be but I can’t be choosy with my prey.”

Prey.

Joohyun takes a sharp, needed breath. This is the moment. The OH MY GOD moment. Although, when she wanted to scream it, she was hoping to be jumping and screaming in excitement at the same time. This is not it.

“What are you going to do with me?” She curls on the bed, making herself as small as possible. She quickly scans for any weapon around. Nothing. Just pillows. They can't even make a thud, much less breaking a head.

When she wanted to lose her ity, it was meant for a man she loves, not a potential-. She suddenly starts choking with fears. This is not freaking it.

He seems fascinated with his bottle as he squints at the label, obviously stalling. After a sigh, he crosses his legs and declares the most . . . unforeseen motive ever. “Easy. I want to hang out with you.”

Ting.

Ting.

“Y-you kidnapped me because you want to hang out?”

What the sneezeee is happening?

“Yeah. I’m new in this town and I’m . . . well, lonely. I want a friend and then there’s you.”

“. . .you want a friend?” She needs to wake the hell up. Nothing really sinks in right. She’s kidnapped but turns out she’s not kidnapped. She’s about to get but not. Everything she thought is happening is not happening the right way. Surprises keep coming, but this is also not. Freaking. It. “Are you like . . . socially challenged or something? You can’t take someone against their will so you can force them to become your friend.”

“But no one wants to be my friend.”

“So you have to go to this extreme?” Joohyun momentarily wonders if he’s drunk, but the tell-tale signs aren’t there. He’s not slurring, his face isn’t red and his expression isn’t sleazy.

“Kind of. What’s your name?”

Ting.

“What is that sound?”

“What sound?”

Joohyun waits. She somehow gets the rhythm. “Ting.” She says at the same time.

“Oh that’s a broken microwave.” He stands and moves to a cupboard. “Come here.”

“Can you remove this handcuff first?”

“Why? So you can walk with your hands?”

Joohyun huffs. She walks to him, standing by his side. He maybe smells good. Maybe—because it’s been a long time since she stands this close to a guy, so he could smell completely normal for all she knows.

They both look down to the microwave. It looks normal and dead but it tings to with people.

“You see, it looks naïve and dead, but somehow it keeps tinging every ten seconds.”

“Why don’t you remove the plug?”

This isn’t the typical kidnap-prey conversation, is it?

“I don’t plug it, Petal. There’s no possible plug in a cupboard or have you ever seen one?”

They stare at each other. Joohyun finally gets a good close look of him. He looks neat. He shaves. Kidnapper aside, he looks maybe kind. Maybe—because it’s been a long time since she stares at a guy this close, so he could look completely normal for all she knows.

(Anyway, why is she qualifying her kidnapper?)

“Is it possessed or something? Why don’t you throw it away?”

He smiles.

Ting.

Somehow, her heartbeat makes same kind of ting, but faster as she registers herself liking it—his smile. It’s stupid because she’s not supposed to like his smile. She’s supposed to fight him. Or at least make a show to fight him because newsflash, she is taken against her will.

But the thing that stops her is his dimples. When he smiles, the dimples go deeper. He looks so kind he could randomly go to a father and ask to marry her daughter and he would be approved on his very first smile. She wonders how exactly he brought himself out there that he couldn’t make a friend and resolved to kidnap instead. Is he as possessed as the microwave?

Ting.

“You, Petal, make a good friend. Although you keep asking stupid question, but I can manage. Do you want to eat something?”

At the mention of eat, she realizes she’s hungry. “Sure.”He stares at her when she plops into one of the couch—pretty much making herself at home by now. She stares back at him. “What?”

“You are . . . not what I expected at all.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I want you to freak out.”

“I almost did, trust me.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. You lost the momentum the moment you said you want to be friends.”

“Oh.” He sighs, looking visibly disappointed. “I need to step up my game then.”

Joohyun sits straight. This is a rare oh moment. “What are you going to do?”

He smiles. He lost the momentum again. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Vegetables.”

His eyebrows rise up. “You’re a vegan?”

“No, I just love vegetables.”

He stares at her longer, before turning to call delivery.

“Is this dinner?” Joohyun asks between mouthfuls. Yixing kindly ordered half veggie half pepperoni pizza for them. It’s her second slice. Yixing is on his third. And she’s still handcuffed. She suspected this is why he decided on pizza so it won’t be too inconvenient that he has to remove the handcuffs. “What exactly is the time now?”

“It’s dusk.” He wipes his greasy hands on his jeans. Joohyun can’t help but narrows her eyes at him. That’s a very bad manner.

“I felt like I’ve been here longer. When are you going to let me go?”

He smirks. And then there are those dimples again. Ting. Joohyun rolls the bite of the pizza around her tongue, not chewing it yet. She wonders if the dimples taste as delicious . . . She takes another urgent bite and now is so full she couldn’t close it. From the back of her mind, she can almost hear her mother glaring (yes, her glaring is so effective it actually has a sound) and reprimanding her about table manner.

“Until there’s a search party. That’s the fun part. Running. Escaping.” He points to the last slice, asking her if she wants it. is still full so all she can do is shakes her head. She clasps her palms (both because stupid handcuffs) around and munches slowly. She would rather die than having indigestion and has to use toilet in this kind of place.

He still tears the slice to half, offering her the triangle side. So kind. That’s her favorite part of pizza.

“Why do you look too calm for this?” He frowns when Joohyun reaches for it. Their greasy fingers slightly touch and Joohyun almost winces. Not because of anything but since the psychologically-damaging saliva-bath incident, she’s been avoiding contact with men. It’s been so long ago so a new and unexpected physical contact with opposite gender is actually a pretty OH-MY-GOD-worthy-moment. She’s just so good girl like that that she could easily passes as a nun without actually being Christian. “You should freak out by now.”

“I’m trying,” she says and chews at the same time. And then she remembers it’s a supremely bad manner so she swallows before she continues. “You see, all my life, I’ve never freak out. I’m not cold. It’s just the emotion, the impulse and the anxiety don’t register well to me. But trust me, you were almost there.”

“You know, it’s not that I really want to freak you out or scared you. But that was what I was expecting and you being this calm throw me out of my practice. I want you to freak out a little because I have reputation here. We’re not friends yet. I’m still your kidnapper.”

Joohyun nods, staring down at her hands. She feels so greasy up to the root of her hair. “Do you have napkins?”

He arches his eyebrow before throwing his leg out. Joohyun gives him a blank stare and he tips his chin. She sighs and wipes her hands on the calf of his jeans. “When I’m out of here, I’m going to steal this so I can put it in the laundry. Three cycles at least.” He snorts. “Anyway, I get it. But we also had passed that point. You shouldn’t have offered me pizza. And I really couldn’t take you seriously with your broken microwave.” As if on cue, the ting vibrates in the air. Joohyun laughs. “Have you ever watch Weekly Idol? When idols screwed up a challenge, the MC made that sound. Ting. But in this case, I think the ting agrees with me.” Ting. “See?”

He laughs and it sounds so kind. Almost shy.

“What’s your name? I really like you,” he says boldly. And boldly, Joohyun gasps. She knows it’s not a confession, but still.

She clears . An OHMYGOD was at the very tip of her tongue. “Joohyun. Bae Joohyun.”

He nods, smiling. “By the way Joohyun, the grease off your lips.” He picks up the empty box of pizza, standing up and leaning close to her—like really close she could see every single one of his eyelashes. “Or I will.” He winks and walks to the door.

Joohyun stares at the closed door. She freezes but warmth creeps up all over her body. She clasps her cheeks, “OH MY GOD!”

Ting.

“Do you think they are out searching yet?” Joohyun pats her dress looking for her phone, and then she realizes her dress has no pockets. “Do I have a phone with me?”

“Nope. Not until a complete 24-hours. And nope. I left it where I got you.”

Joohyun sighs. Her parents rarely called, but if her mother notices she’s not home—or better yet, if she actually notices she exists, she would call by now to remind her of her curfew, which is as early as 7 p.m. “Are you sure you’re just keeping me here to hang out? Or have you called my parents to ask for money?”

He should. His parents have a lot. But money is also why she was neglected, so why would they give them out in exchange for her. She suddenly hopes he hasn’t call. She doesn’t expect much from her parents, but it’s another thing to hear them saying it out loud that they don’t care. She could crumble.

“I don’t want money. I just want someone to talk to.”

Her heart almost swells—because those lines also speak for her—but then he just has to pulls his shirt over his head. Her heart now beats like a clueless organ: stop, fast, faster.

She eyes his torso because in her defense, it is at her eye level. She never seen a body as lean and nice like that shoves in front of her face. Staring at the muscles on his stomach, she almost says Hi because ugh, those need acknowledgement. So . . . male.

“I wanted to keep you until tomorrow actually, but then you act like that . . .” He trails off, putting on a tank tops.

She can’t help but feel simultaneously grateful and sad that he’s obstructed her view of his body. But now that she no longer has a distraction, she manages to croak out a whispery “Like what?”

He rummages through his clothes that are folded on a single coach. “Like a friend.” Her heart swells again. “So, I kind of want to keep you longer now, probably until the novelty wears off. Do you want to change?” He asks, eyeing her dress. “But I like that dress. You look like a bouquet of roses.”

Her cheeks flame, her pulse hammer under his penetrating gaze. She looks down to her pink dress with roses pattern embroidered at the hem.

Suddenly, it becomes her favorite dress.

“I don’t want to change.” He nods knowingly, like that’s the answer he wants. Joohyun struggles to go back into topic. “Why do you have to kidnap, though? You can’t just ask to be friends?”

He sits onto the couch and looks at her funny. “Petal, if I approach you on the street and ask to be friend would you actually accept it? I bet my money you would call me a creep.”

He has a point. “I’m guessing you’re not from here?”

“I’m a man on the run.”

“From where?”

“From home.”

“Where’s your home?”

He stares at the ceiling, looking so deep in thought. “Good question. I. . . I don’t know.” He glances at her. His eyes look dull and almost gloomy. “I’m still searching.”

Joohyun stares at him, looking for words to say but the words sink in further than they should. Does she know where her home is too? Sure, the place is where she’s belonged. But does she really feels belong? Hell, does she ever feels like herself? Her life is all planned out without her say in it, and so is her whole personification—carefully altered, shaped and fashioned. 

Sometimes she wonders who the real Bae Joohyun is and if she’ll ever find her. . . 

She lies onto the couch and stares blankly to the ceiling. “I’m still searching too.”

a/n i'm sorryyy i have to split to parts. i'm very insecure and skeptical about my writing or pretty much everything i do so i hates how the other parts turn out so i'm most probably going to rewrite them. i put on the first part first before 2016 ends (sorry aves!)

p/s there's probably lots of error here and i'm a very lazy checker. i edited this back n forth between my laptop n ipad so the format kept changing dammit

p/p/s the microwave was something i put on to make this as nonfiction as possible since the plot is already so unrealistic haha