Tarian avoids Mrs. Chae as much as she can for the next few days. She’s only got the woman for homeroom and first period, after all, and so she spends the class periods slumped low in her seat and refusing to make eye contact. Not that Mrs. Chae would ever willingly look over in the corner where Tarian sat among the B.A.P. boys. Still, Tarian doesn’t like being told who she can and cannot hang out with so she holds a grudge.

Unfortunately, it’s not just Mrs. Chae who urges her to be more careful about who she spends her time with – she’s stopped insisting that she doesn’t willingly spend time with the B.A.P. since no one will listen to her anyway. It’s not even just Mrs. Chae and Eunji.

She’s sitting in the living room of Daeho’s apartment Wednesday night, doing her homework and half-heartedly watching a movie with Naeun. Their father is working late, which isn’t all that unusual, and so it’s just the two girls at the apartment.

The movie playing on the television is old and grainy, the plot so cliché that it’s almost not worth watching, but, between that and doing her homework, Tarian is a little more focused on the film than the math problems spread out in front of her.

Naeun surprises her by speaking up. Usually when they’re doing their homework together, Tarian’s little sister is wholly concentrated on her assignments. She’s a studious little thing, after all, despite having a creative personality. “How are your classes going, unnie?” she asks politely.

Tarian shrugs indifferently. “They’re okay,” she answers noncommittally. To be honest, she doesn’t pay a lot of attention in most of her classes. She feels no driving pressure to impress Daeho the way she had with her mother, so she’s not exactly trying very hard.

Naeun hesitates. “You have classes with some of those boys, right? Those…you know. The B.A.P.” She says the name almost like it’s a curse word.

Tarian resists the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she needs is to hear this speech from Naeun as well. “Yeah, a few of them are in my class.”

Sure enough, Naeun starts preaching. “You should stay away from them, unnie. I told you before that they’re really bad news.”

“Yeah, bad news. I got it.” Tarian doesn’t even try to defend herself anymore. Nobody listens to her anyway.

Naeun sets her textbook aside, a sure sign that the conversation is serious. “I mean it. You really shouldn’t get involved with them.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Tarian mutters disinterestedly, actually attempting to finish her homework so she can politely escape to her room and get away from the nagging she’s starting to become accustomed to.

Thankfully Naeun takes the hint. She frowns, but she returns to her homework and doesn’t push the matter.

It’s Friday night before she starts to think that maybe she should have taken Naeun’s warning a little more seriously but for a completely different reason.

Daeho is working late yet again – big surprise there – and Naeun is spending the night with one of her friends from the art school she attends a few times a week, so it’s just Tarian at home for dinner. Completely incapable of cooking something Korean, she decides she’s going to make something western since it’s just for her. The only problem with that is that she has to go to the grocery store for that.

Luckily there’s an E-Mart just a few bus stops away, so she heads that way without thinking much about it. She’s got her headphones in, bobbing her head along to an American song she’s particularly fond of, when she gets off at the appropriate bus stop.

The rainy streets are crowded and she’s busy singing along in her head to the song blasting in her ears, so it takes her a bit longer than it probably should to notice the four guys following her at a close distance. If she didn’t have her headphones in, she might’ve even heard them whispering about her.

As it is, she doesn’t notice that they’re following her until one of them grabs her elbow and spins her around suddenly to face him, her umbrella falling to the ground and immediately being whisked away by the strong wind. He’s tall, with dyed blonde hair and a wicked smirk. “Hey there, gorgeous,” he purrs, blowing cigarette smoke in her general direction.

Tarian pulls one of her headphones from her ear, the rock music blasting out. “Excuse me?” she says with an arched eyebrow, trying to shake him off her elbow.

The guy only looks marginally irked that she didn’t hear him. “What’s your rush?” he says instead. “It’s Friday night. Got any big plans?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty tasty date between me and my dinner,” she answers with a roll of her eyes. “So let go, please.”

He doesn’t let go, not that she’d thought the little please tacked on at the end would do much good. Instead he just clucks his tongue at her. “That doesn’t sound very exciting for a Friday night. It’s the weekend. You should celebrate.”

“I am going to celebrate,” she answers boldly. “By eating dinner. Now let go right now.”

One of the other guys leers at her, looking distinctly pleased. “That’s not really an option, you know. We’ve got other plans for you.”

“Ugh, you’re dreaming if you think that I’m going to hook up with a single one of you,” she sneers.

Again, they don’t look as upset by the insult as Tarian would’ve liked. “You’re feisty, Tarian,” the one still holding her elbow grins. “I like that.”

She’s caught off guard by that. “How do you know my name?” she demands without thinking, and then she silently curses herself for giving herself away so easily.

He chuckles. “Everyone knows the B.A.P.’s little pet, Miss Tarian,” he informs her matter-of-factly. “In fact, you’re getting to be sort of famous around Seoul.”

“Oh god, not this again,” she groans. “First of all, I’m not their little pet. I’m not friends with them. In fact, I don’t even like them. Second of all, if you think by doing something to me you’ll get to them, you’re definitely barking up the wrong tree. They don’t give a flying about me, so you’re out of luck. Sorry to break it to you, buddy.”

Her little speech does little to deter them. Instead, one of the guys pulls out his handphone and holds it up. “Say cheese!” he grins, and then he takes a candid shot of Tarian in which she is clearly not amused, giving a bold middle-finger to the camera. “Mr. Bang Yongguk will be receiving this any second,” he announces gleefully.

“He’s not going to care,” Tarian insists, still trying to wrench herself free from the guy holding her captive. Even though the street it busy and crowded, everyone is purposefully ignoring the scene taking place. Tarian hates all of them on principal. “You’re wasting your time.”

Before she can say anymore, however, a flying fist connects with the jaw of the guy holding onto her arm. He grunts and goes sprawling across the sidewalk, a few woman nearby screaming, and he automatically lets go of her arm.

And then Yongguk is grabbing her hand and urging her to run by dragging her along behind him.

“You came?” she says in some surprise, tripping after him. Pedestrians scurry to get out of their way, squealing and complaining.

He gave her a little wink over his shoulder. “I was actually just down the street when I got that little ’s text, so I figured I may as well.”

Tarian rolls her eyes but she’s secretly a little pleased that he came to her rescue. “I guess even you have to play the hero every once in a while.”

He chuckles, blonde hair plastered to his forehead with rain water. “I guess so,” he agrees.

They reach his motorcycle parked at the far end of the street. He swings a leg over and shoves his helmet into Tarian’s arms. This time, she doesn’t complain. She pulls the helmet on over her soaked hair and climbs onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist so she won’t fall off when he goes zooming into traffic.

“Where are we going?” Tarian shouts as they speed between cars in the busy street, some honking at their dangerous antics. “I live in the opposite direction!”

“We can’t go back to your place,” he shouts back, voice nearly drowned by the storm raging around them.

She feels indignant at that. “Why not? I’m soaked and freezing!”

“Because they’re still following us,” he smirks. “Do you really want them to know where you live? What about that precious little sister of yours? Do you really want her to get involved in all this?”

Tarian grimaces at him but he’s got a point, so she clings to him a little tighter and wills the chill away.

Eventually they stop, after what seems like ages. When Tarian lifts her head up, she sees a run-down sort of apartment building through the rain-splattered visor of her helmet. “Where are we?” she asks, climbing off the bike after him and taking the helmet off. Her hair clings to her neck and shoulders in wet clumps, giving her the distinct impression of a drowned cat.

Yongguk shakes back his own soaked hair. He hadn’t worn a helmet since he’d given it to Tarian, so his hair was swept back in a very amusing sort of way until he ran his fingers through it and tried to smooth it down again. “My place,” he answers shortly. Then, catching sight of her skeptical expression, he says, “We’re too far from your place and this storm is only getting worse. Just wait it out here and I’ll take you home after the rain stops.”

It’s a fair enough condition, so Tarian shrugs and follows him inside. The building is old and rather run-down, but at least the elevator works so they take it up to the sixth floor, where Yongguk lets them into a studio apartment near the end of the corridor.

Tarian shivers as she steps into the apartment. It’s rather plain, but surprisingly tidy. The one thing that stands out the most about the place, however, is how totally impersonal it is. There aren’t even any photographs on the wall.

“Where are your parents?” she asks, noting that as a studio apartment there is only one bed.

Yongguk shrugs, tossing his jacket onto the washing machine in the corner and pulling his soaked shirt over his head without a second thought, revealing a body that is much more toned than Tarian would have expected. “Who the hell knows,” he mutters bitterly. Then he adds, “I live alone. I don’t know where my parents are.”

“Oh,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity,” he sneers, peeling off his wet socks. “I do well enough on my own.” Then he sighs. “You can go take a shower. You look like you’re about to freeze to death. Your lips are turning blue.”

Tarian eyes him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not going to come into the bathroom and do something?” she demands.

He makes a face. “Sorry, but you are definitely not my type. I’d rather have with an octopus than you.” He rolls his eyes. “And there’s a lock on the door. You can lock me out if you so wish.”

Tarian only gives in because she is freezing and the bathroom does have a lock. She locks the door behind her and strips off her soaked clothes, leaving them in the sink so as not to drip water everywhere. Then she climbs beneath the hot spray of the shower, reveling in the warmth.

It’s possibly the strangest situation she’s found herself in in a long time, which is a bit rich considering all the things she’s been through since she first moved to Korea. Standing in the shower of her arch-nemesis – is that what Yongguk is? – is not exactly how she planned to spend her Friday night.

She wonders what he’s doing on the other side of the bathroom door. She’s never really considered what Yongguk and his boys do when they’re not being all bad- and terrorizing the neighborhood. Maybe he’s playing video games; she’s pretty sure she saw a PS3 hooked up to the old television. Or maybe he’s doing laundry; imagining Yongguk as a homemaker is pretty amusing, after all.

Tarian finishes quickly, only staying in the shower long enough to warm herself up. Then, upon wrapping a towel around herself, she realizes that all she’s got to change into are her soaked clothes. Putting those back on would defeat the whole purpose of taking a shower in the first place.

A knock on the door brings her out of her internal debate on whether to put the clothes back on or just hang out in the bathroom until her clothes have dried sufficiently to be wearable again – although that would probably take an entire day considering how soaked even her undergarments are.

“Your clothes are wet, right?” Yongguk calls through the door. “You can borrow some of mine so you’ve got dry clothes.”

Tarian chuckles out loud. Taking a shower at Yongguk’s house and wearing his clothes? What a night this is turning out to be.

She unlocks the door and sticks her hand out to accept the clothes. Yongguk gives her the briefest of onceovers – most of her tattoos are visible when she’s wearing nothing but a towel, after all – and then he hands over the clothes and she shuts the door on him again. The clothes he’s given her are just basketball shorts and a t-shirt, so she pulls them on sans underwear since hers is still soaked. She’ll just have to wash the clothes at Daeho’s apartment and return them at school on Monday. If Yongguk even decides to show up on Monday.

She ties her damp hair back with the elastic around her wrist and heads out of the steamy bathroom only to be met by the smell of something delicious. Turns out that Yongguk was neither playing video games or doing laundry – he was cooking dinner.

“What the hell is all this?” Tarian demands, gesturing to the noodles and sauce bubbling pleasantly on the little stove in the narrow little kitchen.

Yongguk quirks an eyebrow over his shoulder at her. “It’s dinner. What does it look like?”

She huffs and crosses her arms over the t-shirt she’d borrowed. “You didn’t have to make dinner for me,” she grumbles.

“I didn’t,” he answers immediately. “It’s for me. I get hungry too, you know, and it’s dinnertime.”

So much for being a gentleman, Tarian thinks with a wry chuckle.

Yongguk sets aside the spoon he’d been using to stir the sauce. He’s still shirtless, dressed only in sinfully tight jeans, and Tarian can’t help but stare at his defined muscles. Who would have thought that Bang Yongguk was this gorgeous? “I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles, running his hands wearily through his hair that’s still sticking up in all sorts of directions. “Don’t let anything burn. Think you can manage that?”

She sticks out her tongue in response. Her only reply is the shutting of the bathroom door as he disappears inside.

Tarian sinks down on the tiny sofa, barely big enough for two people to sit comfortably on. It’s plush and soft, however, enveloping her in a smell that is distinctly Yongguk – though how she knows this is beyond her. The apartment is strangely quiet, only the sauce bubbling on the stove and the running shower in the background. It’s peculiarly comfortable; she doesn’t feel out of place here for some reason.

Yongguk is quick at showering and he’s coming out of the bathroom in next to no time, dressed almost identically to Tarian in baggy basketball shorts and a black t-shirt. He goes over to the stove, switching things off and getting out plates. Even though he’d told her earlier that he hadn’t cooked for her, he says, “You hungry?”

And, because she’d been planning on eating dinner soon anyway, she says, “Yeah, a little.”

So Yongguk fixes two plates of pasta and pours them some cider and they sit side-by-side on the little sofa and watch television like it’s normal when in fact this is the least normal thing Tarian has ever experienced.

The hours pass – their conversation is extraordinarily normal – and the storm outside doesn’t let up. It’s after midnight when Tarian looks out the window and groans. “This storm isn’t getting any better,” she complains. “I’m never going to get home at this rate.”

Yongguk shrugs indifferently. “Just stay here for the night.”

Tarian looks at him sharply, but thus far Yongguk hasn’t tried anything with her and he’s had plenty of opportunities too. And he did rescue her from those idiots outside the E-Mart, so her opinion of him is getting slightly better.

“Just go home in the morning,” he says indifferently, yawning and stretching. “You can sleep on the couch.”

Tarian looks at the tiny little couch pointedly. “Isn’t it respectful to offer your guest the bed?” she suggests archly.

Yongguk snorts. “If you think I can fit on this couch, you’re insane. Besides, I don’t give up my bed for anybody.”

Tarian frowns. Going home in this torrential downpour is completely out of the question – especially at this hour. But the thought of spending the night cramped on this tiny little couch is as equally unappealing.

“The bed is big enough for us both, you know,” Yongguk says, flipping off the television and heading over to the piece of furniture in question. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not going to try anything.”

And, mostly because Tarian is exhausted and she doesn’t want to sleep on the couch, she crawls into the bed opposite Yongguk. It’s big enough that they’re barely touching, but she finds that his warmth is a little comforting. She drifts off to sleep wondering just how she’s going to explain this little debacle to Eunji when her friend finds out.