When Monday came, Himchan looked like he decided to keep whatever happened last Saturday as a secret in the dark. While we were in front of everyone (their gang, I mean) he still approached me with the same flirtatious, red aura, but I felt like something was lacking. Part of me missed it, honestly, since it’s like what happened has made him wiser but sadder, but I told myself that maybe this is what he really wanted to happen. For me to feel sorry for him, if I hadn’t accepted his feelings right away. Then that would eventually lead me to liking him back, which is really effective and accurate.

That Monday evening, I wondered if Himchan’s speech about using Zelo as his mercenary was true or not, and I waited in the living room for the kid to come. Heck, I even prepared a sandwich for him in case he was tired and fuming during his delivery.

But eleven o’clock came, and no Zelo Delivery Express appeared on my doorstep.

This kind of bewildered me. I waited for another hour but still, no one knocked, doorbelled, or called “Noona! Open the door!”. Too sleepy to go on waiting, I went to my room, and was shocked to see something on my window.

In truth, I was the kind of person that wasn’t fond of exercising security measures. My mother had always scolded me for keeping my window wide open when it’s night, and not caring a bit if someone or something would come into my room. This time, for the first of chances, her speech had come true. Or part of it, at least.

“What the…” I looked at the box. Okay. This is just creepy. Maybe Zelo didn’t want to see my face? Or maybe it was another mercenary that was sent that didn’t want to give the delivery to me directly? When my hand touched an orange, I could feel it condensation, meaning the oranges have been here for quite a while. Even the bottom of the box is already wet.

I looked at the clock. It’s 12:30.

So eleven o’clock was still lived up to, even now?

“What is Himchan up to this time?” I asked myself, huffing.

The next evening, I kept my guard up. Knowing that the boy Zelo  had stopped in being his hyung’s mercenary (much to his bliss) I resolved to stay up to eleven o’clock to see who’d be delivering my oranges for the night.

“Just a little more…” I glared at the clock, and in one, final click, it was exactly eleven o’clock, and—

“Ririiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” someone called from outside my room, and I looked one last time at the window. No oranges.

“Coming!!!” I answered, in between gritted teeth.

I was already thinking what national emergency was happening that my Dad was squeezing his lungs out just to call me, only to find out that—

“Why is the fax machine not working?”

I wanted to throw a fit, right then and right there; to ruffle my hair wrathfully, because this was driving me crazy. Before proceeding back to my room to bonk my head several times on the wall, I told my Dad that the fax machine wasn’t working properly because he was pushing the wrong buttons. I went back to my room and, just as I feared, the box of oranges was there.

I used both my hands to rub my face. “I hate you all.” I muttered.

The following evening, I was more vigilant than ever. While I was studying Math on my study-table (which was just about five feet from my window), I made sure that my peripheral vision was on the window. I couldn’t let  a single movement escape me.

“Measure of a over sine A equals b over sine B equals c over sine C,” I mumbled, so immersed in my studying. “Measure of angle A is 44.25 degrees and measure of angle C is 63 degrees, so…” I scratched my head, thinking of what to do next. “Angle-A plus Angle-B plus Angle-C equals 180,” I jotted down everything. “44.25 plus angle B plus 63 equals 180. 44.25 plus 63,” then my ears perked when it heard something. A gust of the wind, the fall of a feather, the drop of a pin would’ve been more distinctly heard, but why oh why did I not hear it? It could be I was too focused or I could be just plain stupid.

When I turned my head, the box was there.

Dammit.

I tried again for another two weeks, but whoever was sending the oranges every eleven o’clock, he sure was a ninja, because even when I just turned my head or my attention was briefly snagged by something else, the box would be there, by my window. For more than once I tried staring at my window for an entire hour, but I had to go pee, and when I came back, it was there. There was also once when I saw a hand putting the box on my window swiftly, and when I ran to the window, the person disappeared. Or once, when I was sitting by my window and the box was put before my very eyes, I called out to the guy wearing all-black attire (yes, like a ninja!) he looked back while he was running and he merely gave me a raise of the hand. It was either he was bidding me goodbye or he was dismissing himself. How easily I gave up, I know. But alright. I’ll let Himchan do what he wants. He shouldn’t just expect me to return his feelings. His flirting was getting really out of hand, but I gave a positive spin to all these. At least I got oranges, right?

It was a Saturday night, and, really bored, I just sat facing directly window, not in fear of whatever was going to show up. The delivery ninja, a specter, or Himchan himself, I didn’t care, I just wanted to tell anyone who’d show up that I was getting fed up with all these.

Eleven o’clock came, and, realizing this, I anticipated for the ninja to come. Alas, it came, and I caught his hand. If he was a ninja fast enough to put a box of oranges on my window in a split-second, I proved him that I was a ninja fast enough to catch a fly. “Hey!” I thundered, pretending that I was angry.

The ninja, whose only eyes were seen, looked at me with wide eyes.

“Who are you, really? And what did Himchan use so you’d do this?” I demanded, finally able to ridicule all these eleven o’clock oranges.

For a while we stayed like that. Finally, the ninja brought down the mask covering his face. “Oh my god, you’re holding my hand.” Himchan said cheekily.

What the hell.

My eye twitched. “You—it was you…you…” I stammered. All this time, it was him, himself?

Probably he was enjoying my retarded expression. “What did Himchan use so I’d do this? Well, he really likes you. He figured it was about time that he’d show it, not through mercenaries, but by his—my own actions,”

I let go of him. “I don’t believe it! It was you, all along?!”

“Kim Himchan at your service,” he did a princely bow. “And, thank you for having a room not positioned upstairs. This was really an advantage,”

For some reason, I wanted to go bury myself in the deepest, darkest hole in the world.

My insides were enraged, but Himchan smiled that warm smile of his, his smile of sincerity, written all over it that what he said that he liked me was genuine, that made me rather conscious despite of myself. “Eat well,” he said, before going.

The next week, I didn’t want to see Himchan. I don’t know, I just—ugh. His face reminded me so much of my…ugh. I can’t even—ugh, dammit. I can’t even put my vexation into words. Ugh.

“Riri-ya?” Jongup nudged me, when it was after-school. I looked at him. “What’s wrong? You look so…disturbed.”

I shook my head. “Nothing, nothing,”

“You sure you don’t want to tell?” he smiled with concern. Jongup knew me too well.

I sighed. “Soon.”

“Alright then. By the way, you want to go to our practice later? Daehyun-hyung says he’s starting a once-in-a-lifetime promo of him treating all of us with cheeseburger,”

That sounded tempting, but I refused. “No thanks; I need to go home early.”

“Oh. but at least…come with me to the music room?”

Jongup is really meek when he requests that every time he does so, I find it impossible to refuse. “Yes. Okay. Let’s go,” I surrendered.

While we were walking, I told him playfully, “You know, it’s kind of funny to think that you guys practice dancing in the third music room,”

He laughed. “Because it’s never really used. It’s long been abandoned and besides—the instruments there are still in good condition, so we could also practice our musical skills there at the same time,”

“Nice point.”

Moon opened the door, and just in time, someone has been standing behind it. Youngjae. “Whoa, Jongup! I was just about to look for you!”

“Hyung’s here! Finally!” Zelo exclaimed, peeking his head in.

“You don’t know how long we waited for you!” alas, it was the voice whom I abhorred hearing.

Though it was just his voice, it had my stomach tingle, possibly even an eruption of pterodactyls (because butterflies are mainstream) going on at the pit. The twin doors of the music room opened wide, and Himchan—damn him—saw me.

“I’ll be going,” closing my eyes so I don’t have to look at him.

“Riri?” my best bud asked, wondering why I was closing my eyes.

“Nothing. I’ll go. See you tomorrow; okay, bye,” and I walked away as swiftly as I could.

It was reported all across Korea that there was a storm within our area of responsibility. And, as the morning news weather-prophet had said, the storm made it