“You live alone?” Rap Mon asks as he enters my apartment. The shoes on the rack prove that. I don’t answer him. Instead, I invite him in.

 

“Just leave the bags anywhere,” I tell him. Following me in, he puts the bags down on the kitchen counter.

 

“It’s a pretty big apartment to be living alone in,” he comments, sidetracking to thank me as I pass him a glass of water. Sorting out the bags, I take out ingredients I need for instant noodles and keep the rest properly. As I pack the veggies into the fridge, a rumble catches my attention. I giggle at an embarrassed Rap Mon.

 

“Stay for lunch?” I suggest as I take a peek in my rice cooker. Can’t possibly feed the idol instant noodles can I? I smile to myself when I see rice in the pot. It’s leftover from last night but we all know fried rice is best made with leftovers.

 

“No, it’s okay,” he says, a light blush colouring his cheeks. His stomach growls again, louder this time.

 

“It’s not going to take long.” Going back to the fridge, I take out the veggies and sausages I had just kept. “I just hope you won’t mind eating fried rice”

 

“No, of course not,” he tells me. “Do you need help?”

 

I look up from my chopping board and turn around to look at him with a raised brow. I don’t want him destroying my kitchen but I also don’t want him to just awkwardly stand around. I nod him over.

 

“You can cut sausages, can you?” I joke, passing him the sausages and a pair of scissors.

 

“Eh~ I’m actually pretty good in the kitchen, you know.”

 

I laugh at his comment and watch him cut the sausages into randomly sized pieces. “You want to take over the onion, then?” I tilt my head over at the onion rolling on my chopping board.

 

Jokingly indignant, he switches his scissors out for the knife. Well, at least he’s holding it correctly – it's a good start. Staring at the onion, he starts by hacking the veggie down the middle. I laugh again and Rap Mon side-glances me with a pout. Controlling my laughter, I gesture for him to carry on as I go scoop out some rice from the cooker. I also grab a couple of eggs and beat them into a bowl. I keep an eye on Rap Mon as I prepare other the ingredients to make sure he doesn’t injure himself. Back to the sausages, I cut them into equally sized pieces.

 

“Oh!” I stop him when I notice his fingers are dangerously close to the knife blade.

 

“Hmm?” He’s been so engrossed in cutting the onion he doesn’t realise he was just seconds away from losing his fingertips. Taking over from him, I lightly push him aside as I lay the other onion half on the chopping board.

 

“It’s easier of you do it like this,” I demonstrate as I chop the onion quickly making horizontal slits before crisscrossing over the top of the bulb. With just half a carrot, I cut small cubic pieces and put them aside.

 

“The pan, please,” I say, pointing towards the pan rack over the sink behind him. Positioning the pan over the switched on electric stove, I wait for the pan to heat up before drizzling oil into it. Rap Mon passes me the eggs first. I look at him quizzically until I remember that not a lot of people fry rice like I do.

 

“Not the eggs?” He asks when I stare at the bowl for a second too long. I shake my head.

 

“I add eggs after the rice.”

 

“Huh, that’s different,” he says, but goes to take the rice anyway.

 

“Would you prefer it eggs first?” I ask, taking the rice from him.

 

“Wouldn’t hurt to try something new,” is what he says, so I proceed my way. Adding the onions in first, I sauté them until transparent before throwing the carrots in. When the veggies are cooked, I add the sausages and fry for a bit before dumping in the rice. I mix everything around as I season it with soy sauce and sesame oil. Finally, I pour in the eggs. Frying for another few seconds, I take the pan off the heat. When I turn around with the pan, I meet gazes with an intrigued Rap Mon.

 

“Yes?” I smile at him as I bring the pan over to the table. I stack the pan on top of a coaster and Rap Mon comes over with a couple of spoons and bowls.

 

“This smells really nice!” He says, biting the spoon in his hand. I motion for him to start. I watch as he digs in, pushing a spoonful of rice into his mouth. His face scrunches as the heat hits him. He chokes on the hot rice.

 

“It just came off the stove!” I laugh as I pour him a cup of cold water. Puffing, he quickly chews and swallows the rice and gulps down the water. Rice flies over his face as he coughs. I shake my head.

 

“There’s a grain of rice on your cheek,” I tell him, showing him the position by pointing at my own face. He mirrors my action and swipes on the wrong cheek. “No, the other side.”

 

“Is it gone?” He asks after swiping his other cheek too. The rice is still there. Grabbing a piece of tissue, I pick the grain off for him.

 

“Now it’s gone.”

 

Rap Mon’s face reddens. Is it from the heat?

 

“But this is really good,” he says suddenly, and I beam at the praise.

 

“Eat more, then. You seemed really hungry.” Picking up my spoon, I dig in too, remembering to blow before putting the spoon into my mouth.

 

“Which day is this?” Rap Mon asks randomly.

 

“What day?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

 

“Seven days straight of fried rice, right?” He flashes his dimples and I’m caught off guard for a moment.

 

“Eight,” I admit. “You just made me break my record.”

 

“Such honour!” The spoon never leaves his hand as he continuously eats. My heart warms up on the inside. Namjoon used to complain every time I ate this, saying that fried rice is not fried rice unless the egg is fried separately first. Never eats it without kimchi, too.

 

“It’s the only thing I’m good at cooking, to be honest. This, and instant noodles.” I blush in embarrassment at my lack of cooking skills. I can copy off a cookbook well though, but I don’t say this.

 

“At least you can cook instant noodles,” he tells me, a sour look on his face.

 

“Well, you did cut the onion pretty well just now,” I encourage him. He laughs and infects me with the laughing virus. The mood is disrupted when the doorbell rings.

 

“Who is it?” I call as I approach the door. Before opening it, I notice a slip of paper on the floor. I pick it up and pull open the door quickly, trying to catch the sneaky bastard.

 

“Did you bring him home to make me jealous?” Rap Mon comes up from behind me, making me jump. I look down at the paper. “What does this mean?”

 

“I don’t know.” Taking a step back, I slam the door. “Someone has been slipping messages like this under the door for the past couple of weeks. Rings the doorbell and disappears.” Rap Mon takes the paper from me and flips it around as if a clue would pop up.

 

“Have you reported this?” He asks as we go back to the table. The pan is already almost empty save for a couple of scoops. I gather the rice in a corner near his side.

 

“Since when does the police ever bother about things like this…” I gave up going to the police after they ignored me the third time. They think it’s just a joke by the kids in the neighbourhood. I have my suspicions, but no concrete evidence yet.

 

“You should be careful,” Rap Mon says seriously. He’s cleared the last bit of rice left.

 

“Sorry there’s no kimchi,” I sidetrack to apologise. “Ran out of it.”

 

“It’s okay.” He brings the dishes out to the sink and turns the tap on.

 

“Just leave them there will do,” I tell him as I enter the kitchen. “I’ll wash them later.”

 

“You cook, I wash. It’s normally like that, isn’t it?” He smiles and for the first time, it really feels like we’re close friends now. I return the smile but rather than go sit outside, I lean against the counter beside him. I take the wet dishes from him and dry them before placing them on the rack.

 

“It’s nice to have someone around,” I blurt out suddenly. Rap Mon turns to look at me. “It gets lonely sometimes living alone.”

 

“Where are your parents?” He asks cautiously as he wipes his hands on his pants. I pass him the hand towel to dry his hands.

 

“Gone,” is all I say. I don’t want to spoil his impression of me by telling him the truth. That my mother had ran away after my birth and my dad’s in jail. It’s not something I can say in a casual conversation like this.

 

“So this is…” Rap Mon looks around the apartment and back at me. I shrug nonchalantly. Omission of information is not lying, I lie to myself.

 

“What about your friends? Don’t they come over often?” Done with the dishes, we go out into the living room to sit. We take a corner each and while Rap Mon sits quite formally, I cross my legs under me.

 

“They’re too busy being famous.” I sigh. We used to hang out together almost every day but ever since I dropped out of the band, I feel we’ve been growing further and further apart.

 

“Why aren’t you singing anymore?” He changes the topic, curiosity framing his face.

 

“I don’t like singing in front of people.” It’s a lie, but what else can I say? That I gave up on my dream because it had caused the death of the man I love? No, no one else can know that. Or maybe selfishness is what’s stopping me from saying. I don’t want to be seen as a murderer’s daughter. It’s not even something to be bragging about.

 

“Can I come again, then?” Rap Mon changes topic so quickly I cannot catch up. It takes me a while to register his question.

 

“Of… course.” But I’m dumbfounded. What for is he coming again? Subconsciously, I’m telling myself it doesn’t matter because… Because. Rap Mon’s phone rings.

 

“Ah, hyung. I’ll be back soon.” He hangs up and I suddenly remember that he was supposed to be buying some groceries back. Rap Mon looks at me regretfully. I hide my disappointment with a smile.

 

“Go on,” I tell him as I stand. “You’re long overdue.” He too stands as he slips his phone into his pocket. I walk him to the door, passing him his bag of groceries on the way.

 

“I guess I’ll just be going first.”

 

 “Go back safely.” I smile for what seems like the millionth time today.

 

“See you again soon?” Rap Mon slips into his shoes and puts on his coat. Opening the door, he takes a step outside.

 

“See you again soon.”

 

As I watch his back go down the corridor, I shudder at the thought that I might be missing him until the next time we meet again.