There is a definite difference between frustration and hysteria. I, for one, redefined that difference and stuck myself right in between: mad. I was mad. Not mad in the sense of anger (though I am, trust me), but more like mad in the stupid kind of way; the crying way; the “my ing GOD I can’t get any crazier than this” way.

               In hindsight I was already on the brink of madness long before all of this happened. My doctor was always a bit wary of me ever since I started answering his medical questions in my sarcastic, trying-too-hard-to-be-funny-because-the-atmosphere-in-this-place-is-awkward way. Which wasn’t supposed to be taken literally, but he ended up giving me a mental asylum brochure with patronizing words. I guess my jokes can get a little bit out of hand. Point is: my doctor was a wimp.

               That wasn’t the point. That was just an irrelevant story that I decided to tell you, my dear, because I am currently mad.

               It’s been about a week since Jung Daehyun has moved into my apartment building, and every night my room is filled with the sounds of him getting it on in the other room. This ing cheap building can’t afford better soundproof walls and my cheap headphones don’t do a good job serving their purpose either. Even over the sounds of Lady Gaga I can hear their little love game.

               Himchan finds something hilarious in the way I rant about Jung Daehyun to him whenever I find the perfect opportunity. He finds it so funny that I can’t get any sleep at night. He even suggested that I join Daehyun for a moment, for a moment of “experience” because the only way for this hermit to escape its shell is to get ed.

               No.

               Jaebum, Jaebum seems to hate Daehyun almost as much as I do. He pretty much knows everyone and everything involved in my life, and he shares the same burning emotions I feel. (God, are we not perfect together or what?) He has suggested that I move out and find a new apartment, but I don’t have the money or the time for that.

               Junhong and Jongup have taken it upon themselves to visit Daehyun before the moon shines to ask him politely to keep the noise down. However they always end up sitting around in Daehyun’s apartment eating cookies and playing Just Dance until Daehyun’s next toy comes around. This happens every night, and I know this because I hear the We No Speak Americano music whilst I study French (why French?) Shocker.

               Yongguk is one of the most normal people I’ve ever met. He’s quite pleasant to be around and feels sympathy for my sleepless . But he and Daehyun are awkward as around each other, so how much could Mr. Dramatic Movie Commercial Narrator do? When Yongguk did try to negotiate with Daehyun, all that ended up happening was Daehyun talking his big lips off and completely overshadowing the baffled and utterly lost Bang Yongguk.

               Oh, Daehyun, Daehyun, Daehyun, Daehyun. If I were to write his name in a Word document every time I heard his name screamed out at night, I’d have enough pages to beat every dictionary out there. It’s sad that I didn’t find it surprising when I told the barista at a café that my name was Jung Daehyun, once. Himchan will never let me live it down.

               “Just once.”

               I hate him.

               I hate him a lot.

               “I promise you it’ll be worth it.”

               Only half of the reason is because he won’t let me sleep. The other half is the fact that he just won’t leave me alone.

               “You know you want it.”

               I really, really don’t.

               ---

               That ing broomstick.

               I long before had realized that I left my mug outside the stairwell door on Himchan’s floor, but I had never found the time to grab it before Daehyun would wrap his arms around my waist. So contrary to normal routine, I would be out the door without a mug but still remain in my yellow bathrobe. Today was no exception. That damned mug probably went missing by now. Who knows?

               Himchan was screeching in my ear by this time – something about not being able to make babies thanks to all the damage done to his ball sack. I then remarked that he didn’t need it. Himchan is literally his own united nation of gay. The pitch at which this raspy male can reach is quite surprising. I don’t think I’ve ever made it to such a frequency. He is still screaming. Someone shut him up.

               “What if I’ll never be hard again? What would you do then, huh? Your hyung wouldn’t be able to get laid. I don’t want to be a ing hermit like you and your tiny-faced self. Why is your face so tiny?!” Himchan questioned exasperatedly, forehead red as he clutched his crotch. “God I have seen my life flash before my eyes a billion times already – and boy is it interesting.” He smirked cockily for a moment before falling to his knees in despair.

               I poked his head with the tip of the broomstick. “Maybe if – just a suggestion – you, you know, STOPPED banging on my floor with your lovely little broomstick over here—“ I waved said object for emphasis, “—this wouldn’t be happening every single day.”

               “What, and miss an opportunity to see you in your glorious—“ He coughed out the word ‘gay’ “—sunshine yellow bathrobe?” He pursed his lips. “I would love to. But unfortunately you insist on coming to my front door step daily to kick Channie junior. Quite rude, if you ask me.” He smirked. “Looks like we both have a problem.”

               I glared at him. “The solution lies within the problem.”

               Himchan blinked. “What kind of poetic are you trying to pull on me?”

               “Just stop with the broom,” I said tiredly, picking off a piece of thread from the sleeve of my bathrobe. “Then I wouldn’t have to see your ty face every day.”

               “My face is the highlight of your day, ungrateful tit. Most would kill to see me every day in person,” Himchan bragged, observing his own nails as he got back up on his feet.

               “The only person that would kill to see you is Min Hyor—“

               “HEY!” Himchan yelled, shoving me backwards. “WE AGREED TO NEVER SPEAK OF SHE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED EVER AGAIN!”

               “Voldemort?”

               I closed my eyes in annoyance upon hearing the new voice.

               “Wait…Voldemort’s a dude. Heh. Oops.” Daehyun stepped beside me, sandals dropping from his hands to the floor with a plop. “You’re getting better at throwing, Youngjae,” Daehyun commented, slipping into his sandals. “I’m quite proud of you.”

               “Why do you insist on not wearing a shirt?” I asked, ignoring the smug look on his face. Two smug faces – two. Daehyun and Himchan were practically the same exact person, except Daehyun was a and Himchan was an . The perfect pair, if you know what I mean.

               Daehyun paused to look down at his torso, and Himchan found it his responsibility to drag one of his fingers down the middle of Daehyun’s chest. He then poked at each one of the slightly defined abs the younger male possessed, counting them with an inquisitive look on his face. “…There’s six,” Daehyun said awkwardly, grabbing Himchan’s finger and pushing it away. “There’s six and there will always be six, hyung.”

               “Just checking…” Himchan said airily, crossing his arms. This is something that happens every day. I hope that in the future Jung Daehyun will lose two, or four, or all six…and in exchange, he could have a six flab. How flattering would that be? Such a turn on.

               Daehyun has a thing for standing unnecessarily close to me that I could literally feel his body heat tickling the hairs on the back of my neck. He’s hot.

…As in the temperature.

               It’s sort of unnerving to have him so close to me. It’s like he’s just about ready to throw me over his shoulder and jump out the nearest window and take his shirt off and suddenly transform into King Kong in broad daylight as he clambers his way up the empire state building (Breaking News! The Empire State Building is now in Korea) as helicopters come out of nowhere to shoot him down, then he belts out these stupid high notes that sound like a prepubescent dinosaur in his gorilla state as he falls to the ground, successfully crashing into the movie theater thus giving me a day or two (or more) off work. A lot could happen when someone with a predatory gaze stands particularly close to you.

               Someone needs to turn up the AC in here.

               “Wonderful chat,” I said out loud, interrupting the conversation I managed to tune out about abs, models, and hair between the two egoistical brats, “but I am afraid I have to leave now.” I nod my head, twirling around with the broomstick still by my side. “Au revoir, les cochons.”

               “Sale chien, reviens ici!” Himchan hissed, eyes narrowed as he took a step out of his apartment to reach for me.

               I dodged out of his way and stuck my tongue out, strutting away. “Imbécile.”

               “Uh?” Scrape, scrape, scrape. Daehyun was following me. Of course he was. “Me no comprendo…Italian?” Daehyun said, scratching his ed up hair.

               “French,” I muttered, pushing through the doors to the stairwell and making my way up. “I should have taken English. Poor decision on my part.” I sighed.

               “Oh…I have a feeling what you two said to each other wasn’t very nice,” Daehyun commented casually, a weird hint of a chastising tone in his voice.

               I ignored and tuned him out the rest of the way up back to my apartment. Before he could enter behind me, I slammed the door in his face and set off to continue my stupid daily routine.

               Around the time I was supposed to leave I exited my apartment without a care, smoothing out the front of my sweater and stepping out. It wasn’t until I was halfway through the elevator that I noticed that something was missing. I pressed two fingers to my forehead, surprised to find that it wasn’t sore. It was sore, but not as sore as it should be considering the fact that every day I knock into the door across from my apartment every single day thanks to the Neopolitan waiting at my door – wait.

               Oh, hell no.

               Slipping back out the elevator before it crushed me beneath its metallic, monstrous clutches, I sprinted down the hall and slid to a stop right in front of Apartment 404’s door. I had suspicions. And I had a feeling my suspicions were right.

               Knocking on the door with a pissed-off look on my face, I tapped my foot impatiently on the tacky carpet the apartment building decided was okay to incorporate in the already ty interior design of the overall building. After many precious, precious seconds were wasted, the door was opened to reveal a blank-faced Jung Daehyun, hair still ed up and shirt still off. Except here’s the catch: his lips were smacking loudly against each other as he shoved his spoon back into his bowl of Neopolitan ice cream cupped in one hand. Shoveling the ice cream and pushing it into his mouth, he let go of the spoon and allowed his hand to fall lazily down to the doorknob.

               “Bwah?” he said, voice muffled by the wiggling spoon and ice cream stuck in his mouth. He grabbed the spoon again and swallowed, blinking at me. “What?” he said more clearly, leaning against the doorframe. “Miss me or something? Finally willing to join me for a night of—“

               I yanked on his wrist and forced him out of his apartment, slamming him right against the door opposite to his. The bowl of ice cream flew out of his hands and onto the cruddy carpet, content melting out and staining the material. Daehyun stared, dumbfounded at the mess I had created. Silently, he trailed his eyes up my body and met my eyes awkwardly before he glanced around the hall. He then directed his gaze to his wrist pinned beside his head on the door, held firmly in place by my numbing hand.

               “Why on earth did you do that?” he muttered, eyeing me carefully as he tilted his head towards the wasted ice cream. “I was enjoying myself prior to you barging into my home so eagerly.”

               “If you haven’t noticed, we’re sort of in a hallway, not your home. Second, where exactly did you get that ice cream? Seems awfully familiar,” I said, eyes narrowing as my fingers clenched around his wrist.

               He shrugged. “First of all, I live in this building now. By default this is my home. Our home, to be more specific.” He chuckled. “But I found that ice cream just sitting out in the hall, so why not take it? Finders keepers, right?”

               “Wrong,” I growled, stomping my foot against the floor childishly. “That ice cream was mine. It was outside of my door and you stole it. I demand compensation!”

               “In what way?” He flashed his unpleasantly blinding smirk as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.

               I shot him a disgusted look. “You’re gross, I don’t want you,” I said breezily, letting go of his wrist and stepping away, staring down disappointedly at the fallen bowl of ice cream. “You owe me for this. I’m supposed to receive this stuff everyday no matter how unwanted they are, and you breaking that as well as other parts of my stupid routine is far too much to handle.” I fixed my bangs with two fingers, flicking the vanilla locks to out of my eyes.

               “Who finds the time to stop by your door and leave ice cream every day? Where can I find this person?” Daehyun asked, stepping closer to me and staring me down with one eyebrow raised in interest. “And why exactly are they giving you ice cream every day?”

               “Junhong and Jongup,” I answered, not finding any reason not to tell the truth. They could give him ice cream all they wanted, as long as I didn’t lose mine. I really do have to empty out that fridge though. On the bright side, I have enough ice cream to host a children’s birthday party with if in the case I my lose job! Y.Jae’s B-days; that’s what it’ll be called. Junhong and Jongup can join it too. It’ll be such a huge success.

               Ew. I spend way too much time with the ice cream boys that I’m actually starting to think like them.

               “Now if you excuse me, I will be leaving.” I my heels, walking off and tuning out the sounds of Daehyun calling out my name.

               After hours of classes I ran into Jaebum down the street, my apology vomiting out of my lips as Jaebum kept reassuring me that it was fine, it was fine, but it wasn’t, really. To me at least. I’m such a screw up. Why does he do this to me? He had asked if I wanted to go get some ice cream with him to get some coffee and maybe chat a little bit, which I was all for, even though I never really said yes to him. He sort of just started to drag me with him since frankly, I couldn’t stop apologizing. By the time we made it to the little ice cream parlor my face was red with embarrassment, muttering soft sorry’s as Jaebum dragged me in by the hand.

               This is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a ing date – oh my ing god it is a ing date, isn’t it?

               With that in mind I fought the urge to faint right then and there because that would be totally uncool, and if you know me, I am totally cool. I sort of have a reputation to keep up, na mean? Fainting is okay, I guess, because I’d land in Jaebum’s arms right? But it might be awkward since he’s like holding my hand – HE’S HOLDING MY HAND! JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.

               “,” I heard Jaebum curse beneath his breath. I glanced at him questioningly, mouthing ‘What’s wrong?’ Jaebum jerked his chin forward and I followed his pointed gaze to see the very person that initiated that “.”

               “,” I repeated tiredly, shoulders drooping because what do you know? Jung Daehyun, flesh and blood, flirting with the big-ed cashier. Those are some big s, I got to admit. Sometimes I want s.

               Anyways, how long has it been since he was last seen? Wow, maybe two…three hours or something. What greater high being have I angered this time to deserve this? I just wanted to hang out (notice how I didn’t say date, because this isn’t a date. Please tell me it’s a date) with Jaebum with no annoying jackass in the way, but it seems that my luck has faded.

               “…Do you want to go somewhere else—“

               “No,” I interrupted Jaebum, shaking my head, gaze still fixed on the figure leaning casually against the counter where the cashier stood. “We’re already here. Let’s just order and leave.”

               Jaebum seemed hesitant, but he nodded in agreement, letting my hand go. “Maybe if we ignore him he’ll go away.”

               I think that was supposed to be a joke, so I snorted.

               Youngjae is smooth.

               I followed Jaebum towards the counter and watched as the cashier slowly straightened up upon seeing these new customers. Daehyun followed the girl’s gaze and ended up looking over his shoulder, an eyebrow going up when he spotted Jaebum and me together. The so-called stud moved over to the side a bit to make room for the two of us.

               “Hello,” Big s said with a not-as-cheery-as-I-should-be-voice-because-you’re-ing-s voice, “may I take your order?”

               “A medium Cookies and Cream, please,” Jaebum said, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket as he stared up at the board. He glanced at me.

               But I was too busy staring at Daehyun strangely. The guy was eyeing Jaebum up and down as if he were ready to drop kick him to Norway. He seemed to be gritting his teeth, and if I weren’t so meticulous I wouldn’t have noticed the mole beneath his eye twitch a little bit. Brushing it off, I turned to Jaebum just in time before he asked me for my order again.

               I was just about to say it, too, until I noticed the cashier’s impatient eyes. They were staring at me expectantly, a certain edge to those sharp eyes that telepathically said “Hurry up dickhead. There is a hot guy waiting for me right ing there.” That was indeed true. I can be a dickhead and there is a hot guy standing right there (well, two…or, if I be so bold, three), but I am not one to take orders from her. No, that’s her ing job. You wear the uniform, you commit.

               “Uhmmm…” I dragged out the syllable, tapping my lips with a finger as I stared up at the menu board behind her. I traced the cheery, cutesy letters with my eyes slowly, nodding my head occasionally as I pretended to be intrigued by the stupid menu. “Uh…that’s a tough one,” I added, looking at her with pursed lips.

               “Would you like a recommendation, sir?” she asked sharply, tapping her creepily long, crappily done neon pink nails against the counter. Girl got big s, but she ain’t got rhythm.

               “No thanks,” I said, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. I hummed again. Daehyun was watching me with a blank look on his face.

               “Youngjae…?” Jaebum said, stepping in directly in front of Dickhyun and blocking my view of my neighbor. “Want me to order for you or—“

               Oh, god he’s such a ing gentleman. I quickly shook my head and murmured another apology before turning to Big s saying “Green Tea.”

               “Size?”

               “Medium I guess,” I murmured, shoving a hand into my pocket to find my wallet.

               Jaebum grabbed my wrist, causing me to look up at him. “No worries, I’ll pay.” He flashed his dazzlingly charming smile as he stepped up to pay Big s. I heard Daehyun scoff.

               “Trying to be a gentleman, I see,” he said, watching as Jaebum froze to glare at him.

               “I happen to actually be a gentleman, thank you very much,” Jaebum retorted, handing the cashier a credit card. “Well, more gentleman-like than you are, at least.”

               “How flattering,” Daehyun muttered flatly.

               The cashier hands Jaebum his card back before walking off to make the orders.

               “I hope you get a brain freeze,” Daehyun mutters beneath his breath as he turns away, nearly inaudible. But I heard it.

               And apparently so did Jaebum. “I hope you get herpes.”

               Daehyun stares at Jaebum, baffled a bit before regaining his senses and taking one step forward. “Well, Mr. Gentleman, that wasn’t very mature, don’t you think?”

               Spit flew out of Daehyun’s mouth – gross – and sprayed into Jaebum’s eyes. Irritated, the latter closed his eyes, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe away mini, liquefied Daehyun particles. “And that wasn’t so charming either, .”

               “Ouch,” Daehyun said mockingly. “Right in the chest. Guess I’ll need CPR.” He winked at me.

               “From who? Your mom?” Jaebum blurted out childishly. I didn’t really know what to do so I sort of just stood there, watching these two throw stupid insults at each other over and over again. How long did it ing take to make ice cream? Dear lord I missed Big s.

               101 insults later, Big s returned with our orders and Jaebum and I took ours respectively. The cashier glared at me as I took mine, which I paid no mind to (except for when I gave her the holy finger as I turned around). I turned to Jaebum to leave, only to find him and Daehyun still bickering.

               “I will on your lawn,” Daehyun growled.

               “I will pee on everything you love,” Jaebum snarled.

               “I hope a truck s you in .”

               “I’ve met hobos with better class than you.”

               “Bet you have a small .”

               “You’d have a bigger one if so much of it wasn’t already in your personality.” 

               “Dirty ,” Daehyun said.

               “Hoe,” said Jaebum.