Don't Go - EXO-K http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrwxG1sCZaE     -------------------- Narrator’s P.O.V:     One good whiff of the air was all it took to make Miyoung sigh in contentment. It smelled of warm stew and fresh rice—perfect to calm her grumbling stomach.   She closed the door behind her, slipping off her shoes and entering as soundlessly as she could, but of course, L. Joe’s supersonic ears heard everything.   “Welcome home!” His voice called out from the kitchen.   Miyoung froze and blinked at the cheerful greeting. It was enough to make her heart warm and fuzzy.   Nostalgia washed over her. When she was still a student, Jonghyun would be cooking something in the kitchen while Yonghwa would greet her at the door. The house would be warm and lively, never lonely. Afterwards, the three would sit down and eat altogether at the table in a happy chatter.   After she had decided to move out, Miyoung thought that she would never achieve that again—at least, not as quickly. Every day she would be stepping into the house unwelcomed, in an apartment that would only be occupied by herself.   And then, L. Joe came along.   Suppressing her pleased smile, she let down her hair and feigned a disappointed look before entering the kitchen, “What is this? An android doesn’t even faithfully meet his master at the door? That’s not like—GAAAH!”   An oblivious L. Joe, as perfect as ever, smiled sweetly from the dining table. An apron was neatly tied around his waist, blond bangs framing his face flawlessly.   “Sorry, master. I had to finish putting this down.” He studied Miyoung’s stunned expression and tilted his head to one side, “What’s wrong?”   He looked puzzled as he held the pot of stew in his bare hands.   Bare hands.   No oven mitts—just flesh.   “What the HELL are you doing?!” Miyoung exploded, ogling at the searing hot stew, “Put the pot down!”   “Eh?” Byunghun blinked twice at her, still not comprehending.   Miyoung reached out frantically, “I said—Put the freaking stew down—AH!”   Instantly, she recoiled. The burning pot had grazed the side of her palm and burnt her. *Damn.*   L. Joe’s eyes automatically shot wide open, “MIYOUNG!” He set the stew down and grasped her wrists, “Are you okay?!”   Miyoung bit the inside of her cheek to suppress the pain, but she was even more shocked to see him unharmed, “W-What about you?”   “Huh?” Bewilderment crossed his face again.   “Your hands—the stew—scorching…” Miyoung blubbered out.   L. Joe didn’t say anything, so Miyoung grasped his palms with her uninjured hand and faced them upwards. They had no red marks whatsoever and he wasn’t even close to flinching in pain.   Shocked, Miyoung let go of them and lightly slapped her forehead. *Idiot! Of course he was unharmed. He’s an Andromeda!* “Ow!” She winced. *Genius. You smack yourself with your burnt hand.*   When Miyoung felt long fingers gently wrap around her wrist, she froze and peered up at a disapproving Byunghun. He clucked his tongue amusedly, “So clumsy. Come here.”   As if it was his own kitchen, Byunghun shuffled throughout the area with light, inaudible footsteps. In silence, Miyoung curiously watched as Byunghun shoved a mountain-load of ice into a plastic bag. He wrapped a small towel hanging on the oven around it and placed it on her burn, “There.”   Miyoung continued to watch with a fond gaze as he softly blew on her wound. “Better?”   After a second, she curtly nodded.   L. Joe let out a relieved smile and Miyoung’s heart thumped in her chest. Suddenly, he placed a thin, papery object in her hands, “This, too.”   Miyoung furrowed her eyebrows and stared down at the object, “It’s… a Band-Aid.” Her sentence bluntly resonated against the walls of the apartment.   “Oh, so that’s what they’re called,” he nodded understandingly, “I saw a commercial on TV and it said that it heals wounds! Let me put it on your hand, okay?”   Miyoung parted her lips to speak, “L. Joe—“   “Pleeeease?” He cooed.   Miyoung let out a sigh, “…Fine.”   As if on cue, Byunghun’s face lit up as he peeled the