three of twelve

If the person following him wanted it to be surreptitious as possible, then they are screwing up.

The black Ducati isn’t even the biggest giveaway at this rate, Yifan muses, it’s the fact that the girl behind the Ducati’s handle is illegally speeding into the business district with her blonde hair blowing into a disarray from how fast she’s driving.

Yifan arrives at two conclusions. One, Junmyeon is trying to get to somewhere as fast as she can and they just happen to drive on the same road; two, Junmyeon’s stalking him.

Maybe it’s the latter, Yifan muses over his bouquet of yellow tulips. She’s staring at him from across the road and Yifan tries to ignore how weird the situation is. When he ducks down to place the flowers on the passenger seat, he furtively darts a gaze towards Junmyeon who hasn’t moved from where she is.

Yifan enters his vehicle and wonders if the math genius had ceased on following him.

She doesn’t. Yifan couldn’t quite fight the sudden laugh that escaped his lips as Junmyeon zoomed right behind his bumper. When he parks in front of the hospice he usually frequents, he pretends to ignore her obvious existence and waltzes right into the entrance without giving it much thought.

Yifan hands Mrs. Lim the tulips when he sees her standing by the window, staring calmly at something Yifan still not sees, even after all these years. There’s something about this seemingly frail old woman that screamed strength. She’s diagnosed with mid-stage dementia, consequently causing her to steadily forget everything and everyone that held some sort of significance in her life.

Except for flowers, this woman, remembers flowers. She likes them, likes inhaling their scent. She tells Yifan random things about flowers sometimes, like how tulips mean something along the lines of cheerful love. Yifan isn’t wholly sure what that means, but he bought them anyway.

“Everything going well today, Min-ah?”

The old woman smiles at the flowers but when she gazes at Yifan, she looks lost as usual. Yifan tries his best to keep a straight face as he stares out the window and tries to figure out what Mrs. Lim had been eyeing all these years. There isn’t anything across the window. After all, the hospice is the smallest building in the business district and it’s flanked by monolithic towers from all sides. People in this place don’t mind anything but their phones, and the occasional traffic.

“They’re in a rush.” The woman says, softly the blooms. “Always in a rush. Walk so fast. In a rush.” 

Her words are coming out choppier these days, thoughts strewn into fragmented sentences. Yifan wishes to understand her, because sometimes, the woman’s words meant more than they conveyed.

Yifan hums, “I guess so, Min-ah. Young people are always rushing.”

The patient smiles at him. “I like Tulips, they mean love. Carnations too, they mean undying love.”

Yifan files that small fact into his mental cabinet of flower language and nods. “Maybe I’ll get you carnations. I’ll ask if they’re in season.”

She smiles, that little lost smile, like a child in an eighty-five-year old’s body. Yifan knows he’s lost her again so he turns around and lets her be peaceful in her world full of flowers and their language. There’s an ache in Yifan’s chest, something that he’s learned to hide. He wishes he knows how to quit feeling it too.

He is about to enter the lounge meant for volunteers when he sees a glimpse of Junmyeon reading inside the children’s play ward. She’s an oddity. Her blonde hair, black clothing and red lips are a general mismatch in a room full of pastels and color.

Yifan is amused, per se. She’s obviously followed him here without knowing what the place would be but Yifan admires her grit. Volunteers usually feel light headed inside such places, they think it will be a general glum, with death looming like a permanent shadow.

Well, for one, that is a perfectly correct assessment. Hospices are for people who are ready to accept their end, but more than that, it’s a place to receive care when it is needed the most.

Yifan thinks Junmyeon is rather pretty when she smiles. Her red lips are quite intimidating but when those lips curl, and her eyes turn into crescents, intimidation becomes something fond. It’s quite noble to subject herself to such things without mental preparation, really noble.

What an odd woman. Yifan muses, chuckling as he exits.

He’s wondering if Junmyeon has left the hospice when he goes to his assigned wing. Turns out, Junmyeon hasn’t. She’s prancing back and forth in front of the geriatric wing. Yifan watches her for a while. She looks stressed, and her previously tied hair has come undone. The blonde tresses are really distracting, the way it cascades down her back is hypnotic, too alluring for her own good.

Yifan squeezes his eyes when Junmyeon gathers her hair up, baring a good portion of her pale neck. The man slightly chokes.

Well, that does it. Her neck turns him on. What a discovery.

Junmyeon rapidly turns around and Yifan saunters towards the hallway, pretending that he didn’t notice her grab a magazine and hide her face behind it. For such an intelligent human being, Junmyeon can be silly too.

Yifan hides a small smirk when he enters the geriatric wing. He sees Junmyeon’s silhouette, as she tries to peer through the small gap he left through the door. Just enough to sate her curiosity.

What an odd woman.

~*~

She’s wearing a dress the next time Yifan sees her inside the hospice, a really nice green dress that made her look like those blushing ladies in the morning dramas the patients sometimes like to watch.

Junmyeon is still probably oblivious to his existence. Yifan deduced that she would never step in the hospice again after being subjected to unnecessary emotional trauma.

But here she is, proving him wrong. 

Seriously, what an odd woman, odd in charming sort of way.

“There’s this new volunteer, also from SNU. You know her?”

Yifan nods and languidly stretches over the length of the leather couch in the volunteer’s lounge. Yixing is standing by the coffee maker, idly stirring sugar into his cup.

“An acquaintance. I believe she’s a finance major.”

“She must be loaded.” Yixing comments after taking small sip from his chipped cup. Yifan stares at the nurse. “What do you mean?”

“A donation. It was big man, twenty million won.”

Yifan shrugs. “Guess so. She’s some sort of a genius.”

“Damn. Must be great to have so much money, brains and the looks to boot. She sounds pretty perfect.”

The cup of coffee Yixing handed him tastes quite bland and Yifan suddenly thought they could buy better coffee beans with Junmyeon’s sudden generous donation. The thought amuses him.

“She’s been here a lot, then? What do you think prompted the donation? No one gives these days.”

Yixing looks thoughtful. “It could be for the kids we put on the cancer play ward. She had half an emotional breakdown the first time she’d been there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And she was here looking for you. Don’t tell her I told you.”

“I know.” Yifan chuckles, “We’ll see if she develops an interest.”

~*~

It’s over a month later when Yifan finally makes his presence known.

The whole city is drenched by an especially strong monsoon rain. Typhoon season came early this year.

Junmyeon is staring outside the street through the glass doors and sighing. It’s six in the evening, and the grayness of the skies made the business district look even more drab than it usually is.

“Fancy seeing you here, math genius.”

Junmyeon jumps a good foot away from him and her face displays a look of pure surprise. Yifan has to chuckle; she looks cute.

“When did you get there?” Junmyeon asks, straightening her posture.

“A few seconds ago.” Yifan answers. “Looks like we’re stranded here. This storm is not ceasing anytime soon.”

“This weather is crazy.” Junmyeon comments as soon as a particularly strong gust of wind sprays water near the entrance. “It was sunny earlier. I thought it would have been a good idea to drive a bike.”

“It’s typhoon season.” Yifan says. “I’m surprised to see you here though. I thought you wouldn’t have the spirit of volunteerism.”

She laughs, the sound melodic as the first time Yifan had heard it.

“I did volunteer once, somewhere in South Africa.”

“Cool. What did you do?”

“Sustainable lighting via geothermal means.”

Yifan an eyebrow. “This place definitely does not need lighting. I’m wondering what brought you here.”

Junmyeon flushes very slightly at the question. “Well to be honest, I was wondering what you did in this place. I got kicked out of my behavioral finance class one time and I saw you exiting the health building. The rest is history.”

“So, you stalked me.” Yifan deadpans.

“I’m sorry?” Junmyeon sounded sheepish.

“Has your curiosity finally been sated?”

“Not really. I still want to know why you work here.”

“I don’t work here, Miss Kim. I’m just a volunteer.”

Junmyeon looks at him and says nothing more. The rain is whipping harder than ever. It is cold and she shivers. Yifan in a sudden act of chivalry shrugs off his cardigan and drapes it over Junmyeon’s shoulders.

“Don’t get sick.” Yifan tells her. “Majority of our cancer patients seem to like you.”

Junmyeon pulls on his cardigan and smiles. “Thanks.”

She remains silent once again, there is a faraway look in her eyes. Yifan begins to wonder what could be in that genius head of hers.

“Why would you volunteer in this kind of place?” She asks, not meeting his gaze. “It’s harrowing.”

“It’s not if you think of it as more than a place where people come to die.”

“Does it not affect you? I sometimes look at the kids and it makes me angry how they’re only given five years, barely a blip, when they could be so much more. Some of them could one day make a difference but they’re not given the chance and on the other hand some useless people wander about without sickness and wasting their goddamned lives. It makes me sick.”

“It affects me. But I’m about to become a doctor in two years, I’ll have to get used to the fact that people will die and there is nothing I can do to save them.”

“That’s it?”

Yifan looks at her. “I volunteer here not to get used to death but to learn empathy. People are more profound when they’re dying and it’s an experience to be with them, to share their thoughts and learn how to really care. Don’t be so angry with the world, miss Kim. Everyone’s going to have to die anyway. It’s not about how short life is, it’s how we live it.”

Junmyeon turns to smile at him and for some odd reason, Yifan’s chest tightens.

“You’re going to be an amazing doctor.”

For the first time, Yifan is compelled to return her smile.

“I’ll drive you home.” He says, “It’s late and this rain is not stopping anytime soon.”

“Thanks.”

Junmyeon lives in those expensive apartment towers located not so far from the business district. Yifan notes her residence and pieces the information Yixing had given him.

Kim Junmyeon might be a chaebol heiress or something. But she is really an odd character, her demeanor and overall cynicism made her almost mysterious to such an extent. Yifan is rather fascinated.

Currently, she’s dozing off on his passenger seat as he parks right in front of her building. He wants to wake her up but she looks rather peaceful. Her blonde hair is in tangles, covering half of her face and Yifan succumbs to his unstoppable urge to brush it away.

He tucks her hair behind her ears and for a while, he just stares and studies her face. The whole situation is honestly weird, and he is acting like a bona fide creep, but he can’t help it. Kim Junmyeon is beautiful and the mystery surrounding her makes her more enticing.

What the actual , Wu Yifan.

“Junmyeon.” He calls, moving back a little. “We’re here.”

She snaps her eyes open and proceeds to yawn rather ungracefully. Yifan inwardly chuckles.

“I think I have a crick in my neck.”

Yifan laughs. “See you soon, Kim Junmyeon.”

“Thanks for dropping me off, Yifan. Also, can we drop the formalities? You honestly sound like my professors.”

“Sure, Junmyeon.”

“Bye.”

~*~

It has become a pattern somehow, like the first time they met.

Yifan’s about to enter his vehicle when he hears a distinct, indignant shout. It’s Junmyeon of course, but the only difference this time is that she sounds considerably sober.

“Are you ing serious?!”

There are two men dangerously closing in upon her from the front and back. Junmyeon, instead of looking frightened, is more resigned than anything. Yifan approaches with caution.

“Look, I’m not getting into some kind of fling with you again. How many times do I have to tell you, you dumb .”

“I like it when you’re sober.” The man says. “You act like I don’t make you scream.”

“Be very grateful then, I was drunk enough to actually think your puny gave me some sort of pleasure. Now, off.”

The man grabs Junmyeon by the arm and forcefully turns her towards him. “Aww, babe. You wound me.”

Yifan sprints, sensing that she is about to get into some serious altercation but before he manages to reach her, Junmyeon has already planted a solid punch squarely into the man’s face. The man stumbles, clutching his bloodied nose.

“You !” He shouts.

Junmyeon is about to lunge for another kick when the second man, who had been idly standing behind, grabs her hair. Junmyeon shouts in pain but then retaliates by elbowing the man who grabbed him.

“Ah .” Yifan whispers to himself. “Not again.”

He does not think twice when he kicks the man Junmyeon had punched.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon lands another punch, “What are you doing here?” and a kick. The man who grabbed her slumps to the ground, seemingly knocked out by the force of Junmyeon’s last assault.

What even is this woman?

“Why do I always find you in these situations?” Yifan sighs, “You should learn how to avoid ty people.” He slaps the disrespectful bastard on the mouth. Yifan made him bleed.

“Wow, thanks for reminding me of my ty decisions.” Junmyeon says undoing her hair. Yifan’s throat goes dry. He likes her hair so much, wonders how it would feel against his fingers.

“This had the gall to grab my hair. What a bastard.”

“You’re bleeding.” Yifan looks away. “I have a kit in my car.”

“Are you doctors always this prepared?”

Yifan swipes the antiseptic on her scratched skin and shakes his head. “No, it’s the effect of constantly having drunkard friends. They get into so much and I think it’s not such a bad deal to come prepared.” He attaches a bandage on her wound and puts the medical kit away.

“Thanks though,” Junmyeon tells him, smiling, “for saving my , again.”

“You look like you didn’t need it anyway. Do you practice martial arts?”

“Krav Maga.” She shrugs, “I always get into the same you’ve witnessed me in. I got beaten by a bunch of tards one time, and I decided it has got to be the end of it. It worked.”

Yifan glances at her. Junmyeon’s staring back at him with her perfect hazel eyes and her blonde hair framing her beautiful face.

It’s erratic, Yifan’s heartbeat is erratic and he is at a total loss as to why that is.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Yifan says as he averts his gaze, “you really need to get yourself better friends.”

Junmyeon’s smiling at Donald Duck’s face on the surface of the band aid Yifan had stuck to her skin.

“Can I call you a better friend then?”

The woman’s smile is ambiguous with flecks of sadness.

Yifan nods, “You’re such an odd woman. After puking on me the first time we met you still don’t consider me a friend?”

Junmyeon lets out a small startled laugh at the statement and the sound makes Yifan’s chest constrict, like when he’s had enough coffee and his heart is doing strange backflips.

“Thanks, I needed that.”

Yifan merely nods and the urge to tuck Junmyeon’s hair behind her ear makes its presence known. The man turns away.

~*~

Just like Junmyeon’s whole persona, the friendship they develop is somewhat, odd.

No one knows why the school’s notorious Kim Junmyeon who took no from anybody and the gifted, albeit aloof medical student, Wu Yifan are seen together most of the time.

Yifan has since quit asking why Junmyeon never seemed to attend any classes because she’d casually told him she didn’t feel like it. Yifan hadn’t asked her to elaborate the reasons why, and he surmises that with her brain, she probably does not really need any more tedious lessons.

However, even the oddest of friendship seemed to work if the parties involved are willing to make it work. Yifan realizes this the longer he spends time with Junmyeon.

They’re inside the music hall. Yifan’s idly caressing the Steinway into random notes, not really playing. He’s still unable to play with an audience present.

“Are you never gonna play for me?”

Junmyeon is leaning against the piano much like the second time they met. Yifan shrugs and his fingers cease dancing upon the keys completely.

“Maybe next time.”

“You’re talented.” Junmyeon chuckles. “Stravinsky would have rolled in his grave if he heard you though.”

“That sounded like a backhanded compliment. Are you saying my playing ?”

Junmyeon chuckles, “Your playing’s fine. But you play like you’ve memorized the sheet music. Playing doesn’t have to be as surgically precise you know. I mean you’re a doctor and all but you get the idea.”

Yifan stares at the contrasting piano keys and shrugs. “It’s hard to make it sound different.”

Junmyeon stares at him, smirking. “Because you don’t want to make it sound different.” Surprisingly, she sits beside him on the piano stool and starts playing a Chopin nocturne.

The familiar notes of Chopin’s famous op. 9 no. 2 oscillate throughout the hall in rushed portions. Junmyeon plays well. There’s an artistic flair to her playing and although Yifan might have memorized the sheet music to the piece and knew exactly how it sounded, he admits that he is fond of the woman’s almost careless rendition.

The music ends. Junmyeon’s fingers are still on the keys and Yifan starts to become aware of the proximity between their bodies.

She turns to face him, her smirk gone only to be replaced by a gentle smile. “Live a little, Yifan.”

“Easier said than done.”

Junmyeon laughs at him, “Then what about I just show you?”

~*~

For such an angelic looking woman, Junmyeon surely does not drive like one.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Yifan tries to calmly ask as he anchors himself on the bars attached to Junmyeon’s motorcycle. She is speeding (illegally) through Seoul’s non-existent late-night traffic. Yifan swears under his breath.

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon shouts just before she makes the vehicle careen forward, faster. Yifan is going to die tonight. He wonders what compelled him to even agree to this sudden excursion, and right now it is safe to say that he is in a state of complete regret.

“Will you slow down a bit? I don’t want to die just yet!”

Junmyeon does not slow down; she stops though, clenching her palms around the breaks of the vehicle that the resulting force causes Yifan to knock his forehead against her helmet clad head. Junmyeon is still chuckling when she removes her helmet. Yifan narrows his eyes at her.

“I told you, live a little.”

“If you continue to drive like that, I’m positive you will literally live a little.”

There isn’t anything very amusing about the whole statement but for some odd reason, it made Junmyeon laugh. Yifan sighs. What is he even getting himself into?

“Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Downtown.” Junmyeon answers.

Apparently, they are in front of some decrepit building. Once upon a time, the façade must have been more than a faded, paint chipping mess. Yifan eyes the building warily. The place is not completely silent for sounds could be faintly heard from outside.

“Are you sure this isn’t some place where you cut me open and sell my organs to the black market?” Yifan asks as he dismounts from the bike.

Junmyeon stares at him, “What the are you talking about?”

“I’m just trying to make things clear.” Yifan shrugs, “I wasn’t planning on spending my day off at an establishment where my safety is being put into a questionable risk.”

“I told you Yifan, live a little.” Junmyeon rolls her eyes as she gathers her long hair up into a high ponytail. Yifan watches the action with acute fascination. “What’s wrong?”

Yifan snaps out from his reverie, coughing. “Nothing.”

Junmyeon raises a perfectly shaped brow at him and Yifan looks away.

They eventually enter the dilapidated building. As expected, inside is as rickety as outside. It’s a club of some sort, there’s a stage and a musical setup tucked in one corner of the room. The tiled floor is grimy and the marble counters are rundown and scratched. The light fixtures emit a sickening glow, bathing the whole area in faded orange. It makes Yifan’s head ache.

On the other hand, Junmyeon is looking and most probably feeling the opposite of Yifan’s general discomfort. She’s smiling as she strides towards the bar counter.

“Junmyeon!”

The bartender is an olive-skinned man and has a friendly smile.

“Hi Hakyeon, is Taek around?”

The bartender purses his lips before placing a drink in front of Junmyeon. “Nope, your lover boy isn’t around.”

“Taekwoon isn’t my lover boy. What the hell, Yeon.”

“Whatever.” Hakyeon says, he is now staring at Yifan. Grin particularly sly. “I’m Hakyeon, what can I get you?”

“Hakyeon’s bloody mary is amazing.” Junmyeon suggests. Yifan shrugs, “I’ll get a pint of beer, thanks.”

As Hakyeon turns to prepare his drink, Yifan occupies the seat beside Junmyeon and quietly stares at the woman as she consumes her martini. In the last few minutes, patrons start pouring inside and noise escalates slightly.

“Your perfectionist isn’t going to love this place at all.” Junmyeon says.

Hakyeon returns with Yifan’s pint of beer and quietly leaves them be. “And why is that?”

Just as the question leaves his lips, the place erupts into an applause. Yifan stares at the stage where Hakyeon and five more people stand behind their respective instruments.

“Good evening everyone.” Hakyeon says into the mic before striking the piano. The audience hoots.

“You brought me to a jazz club?” Yifan is incredulous.

Junmyeon nods. “Fun fact, I learned the piano because of Hakyeon. He’s ing amazing.” 

Hakyeon is a great player indeed, creative. He plays his own jazz rendition of famous contemporary music dotted with classical pieces. Yifan wishes he could play like Hakyeon. He wishes he could play in that careless, yet breathtakingly, fascinating way.

“Let’s dance!” Junmyeon suddenly tells him. She’s already vacated her seat and is circling her petite fingers around Yifan’s wrist.

Indignant, Yifan yells. “No, I can’t dance!”

“Did I ask if you could?” Junmyeon laughs. “I told you Fan, live a little.”

Yifan did not know that he is very susceptible and extremely vulnerable against smiling, crescent shaped eyes. Against his will, he finds himself being led towards the middle of the grimy dance floor. Junmyeon is still laughing as they try to dance, try being the keyword.

For the first time, Yifan sees Junmyeon radiate with happiness. Her laughter is infectious and Yifan finds himself going against his very principles. He dances amidst crowds of other dancing people. He hears laughter and a dozen other voices mingling into a loud cacophony.

Yifan likes it. He grabs Junmyeon by the waist, his palm flat against her back. Junmyeon stills against him. “Having fun?”

The medical student leans down to answer. “This is ing insane but I like it.”

Junmyeon smiles at him – the same smile that reaches her eyes and makes her look like a complete angel – and for some reason everything around Yifan fades into the background. Under the sickening orange light, Junmyeon seemed to glow.

Yifan’s heartbeat is a little erratic.

~*~

Junmyeon drops him off in front of his apartment building around one in the morning. Both are completely sober and yet Yifan feels dizzy, like he’d been drunk.

“Thank you.” He tells Junmyeon as he dismounts from her bike. He stands there unmoving. They have known each other for over two months and for some odd reason, Yifan feels like he’s known her since forever.

“I was wrong then.” Junmyeon says, “Your perfectionist seemed to enjoy music that’s frankly been botched. And it’s good fun, right?”

Yifan just smiles.

“Live a little, alright?”

Yifan had been thinking about it all night and coupled with Junmyeon’s own words, Yifan throws caution to the wind and leans in to leave a small lingering kiss against the side of Junmyeon’s mouth. He grins, “I’ll put that in mind. Good night Junmyeon, I had fun.”

Junmyeon chuckles and says her goodbye before speeding into the night.

Yifan’s heartbeat is erratic.

~*~

“Kim Industries wants to buy the hospice.”

It’s the first thing that Yixing says to Yifan the moment he steps inside the volunteer’s lounge. He eyes the palliative nurse in disbelief. “What?”

“The director had a meeting with a representative earlier.” The nurse sighs, massaging his temples. “They’re backing us into a wall.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means we can’t say no, Yifan. We aren’t given the option to refuse.”

Yifan’s blood runs cold. “You mean the directors agreed?”

“They didn’t, and that’s the problem. The director can’t not agree. I’m not sure what cards they pulled on us but we just can’t refuse.”

“What the hell do the Kims even want with this place?! They practically own this ing country.”  

Yixing doesn’t answer. Yifan’s blood boils. “Until when?”

“When what?”

“When do we have to give up the hospice?”

“In six months.”

Yifan screws his eyes.

This can’t be happening.

~*~

“You look like your cat’s been stolen.” Junmyeon remarks before sitting beside Yifan on the grass. “Pineapple fruit tape. Want some?”

Yifan shakes his head. He’s not in the mood to talk anyone right now but for reasons he dares not ponder, Junmyeon’s presence calms him.

“I’ve got bad news from the Hospice.” Yifan tells her. “It’s closing down in six months.”

Junmyeon stops chewing on her fruit tapes and turns to face Yifan. “What? Why?”

“The Kim Industries want to buy it.”

Yifan studies Junmyeon’s reaction. It went from confused, to horrified, to angered before it completely neutralizes. When she speaks, her tone sounded resigned. “Did they tell why?”

“No reason at all. As far as I’m concerned haven’t they been like that in the first place? Small businesses falling into their capitalist hands.” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle, “Maybe that’s why this country’s so rich, we’ve basically sold ourselves to the Kims.”

Junmyeon becomes uncharacteristically quiet beside him, Yifan wonders why.

“Do you hate them?”

“Who?”

“Kim Industries.”

“I don’t.” is Yifan’s honest answer. “But for once, I want them to cease their greed. Money runs the world, but it’s not everything.”

Junmyeon remains quiet. Her reaction to the news is so uncharacteristic and it completely throws Yifan off.

“I’m sorry about the hospice Fan.” She tells him. “I wish I could do something about it.”

“I wish too.”

They remain quiet until Junmyeon phone rings. She fishes the sleek device out of her pocket to answer the call.

“Yes, this is his sister? What happened to him?”

It’s spoken in English.

“What?!”

“Alright. Transfer him to a hospital in New York and forward me the details. I’ll be there.”

The call soon ends. Never has Yifan seen Junmyeon in such distress that he can’t help but pry.

“It’s my brother.” Junmyeon says, running a hand through her hair. “I have to leave, Yifan. I’ll call you.”

“Okay, call me alright?”

Junmyeon nods. Yifan is worried.

Merry Christmas (to everyone who celebrates it)

btw, i joined hundredtimes this winter and wrote this  for heartaches, for love. 

throw bricks @snowmyun