“Eun-Eunji?” Inguk asks in front of his door, surprised. Behind him, a short girl—shorter than Eunji—with an A-line cut in a spaghetti strapped tank top and gray booty shorts tugs on his shirt. He glances behind his shoulders to the girl behind him. “Wait, I-I have someone—”

A drunk Eunji shoves the door open with her heavy hands, and she invites herself in, not giving a care to her surroundings. She falls onto the floor after three steps. She doesn’t speak. She only stares off in space in front of her.

“Who is she?” asks the girl. She places her hair behind her ear. She looks up at Inguk with an unsatisfied expression. “I thought you were eating me tonight!” She doesn’t give him a chance to explain and instead, hits him on the chest a couple of time, grabs her laid out stuff—only her bag—and walks towards the door. Before slamming it, she shouts, “I’ll leave the for you and her! Don’t contact me ever again if you’re going to treat me like this!” She walks off after her grand exit.

Inguk can only run to his window and shout, “It-it’s not what you think!” He wants to run after her and clear things up, but he can’t possibly leave the drunk Eunji in his house alone. She may be someone he always gets into a fight with, but she is still a considerable friend. “C-come back!” He sadly stops shouting when he sees her car drive off his driveway.

“Echatly!” Eunji’s slur speech makes Inguk turns to face her with a glare. She cackles uncontrollably with her hand pounding the glossed floor. “Echatly! Come ba!!!”

“You!” He points at her with anger. “What’s a drunkard like you doing here in the first place? A-and, how did you even know where I live?” He receives nothing but further giggles. “Why am I trying to get answers from a drunk?”

He heaves a depressed sigh and makes up his mind to suppress his temptation of wanting to throw her out on his lawn for the night and instead, picks up her and takes her to his bedroom to sleep. “You better be glad I’m a good friend.” He says as he struggles to carry her for more than three steps. “How do guys carry girls like sticks?!”

Soon, his mind is interested in something else. Her flesh in his hands is different. It’s nowhere near soft, and especially nowhere feeling like a girl’s either. It’s very structured, constricted, and ashy. He stands at his spot, and examines her entire body. There have been a few countable times where they’ve had close eye contact or touched one another—since they physically fight when they have the chance—but not once has he ever felt or touched her skin for more than a mere thirty second. He’s never really caressed and sensed how physically different she is in comparison to all those fluffy, soft and sensitive, and feminine ladies he’s laid beside with who has taken immense amount of care for their skin.

“You may not be sweet. Or luscious. But you’re definitely a diamond in the rough.” He lifts her up with more power and smiles to himself. “You’re definitely a one in a million.”

When he’s finally gotten to rest her on his bed, with much panting and exhaustion, he falls to the floor to rest his body. Seriously, why did she come over to my place? He’s so tired that he wants to go straight to sleep, but he knows he has to wash up. “It’s so far!” As he looks at the direction of his bathroom, his droopy eyes lead him to slumber land.

*

What’s that? Inguk bats his eyes open to weird sounds that he’s never heard before. More odd than that, he’s sleeping on his bedroom floor, and his light is on. How did this—when he turns around to the sound, he sees the scene the clears his memory. “Oh, builder-woman. You.”

Eunji, sitting on his bed, whimpers to herself. Still drunk, perhaps. She doesn’t seem to have noticed him, though. Nor hear him.

He gives her space in hopes that she’ll see him. When there’s no sign of her ever looking up, he slowly and cautiously goes over to the side to sit beside her. “Y-you okay?”

He’s never seen her drunk before although they’ve taken a few shots here and there together, but it’s usually her who goes home herself or with Luhan. It’s often with the latter for obvious reasons. “Want water? Food? Bathroom?”

No response.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

A pause. The horrific sounds like a growling cat at a window sill cease.

Inguk takes this as an answer. He alarmingly gets up and gets on his knees in front of her. “W-where are you hurt? Do you want me to—” he stops talking and almost has a heart attack when he sees her places hand at her heart. “—I’ll call an ambulance!” When he stands up to search for his phone, he is halted by her cold, wet, and slim hands.

The hands gradually loosen their grip, but it still holds tight on his hand, oddly enough.

“I-is there something else too?” Just don’t die in my house!

“My heart…hurts.” She slams a hand at her chest.

“I’m calling—”

She doesn’t let him go. “And my head hurts.” Her other hand rests on her head. “What should I do?”

“I’ll call the ambulance.” He informs her. He spies his phone from nearby his feet, possibly slipping out of his pockets during his sleep on the floor, and he picks it up. He dials a number, and she continues to speak.

“Is there medicine for this?” She cutely asks like a child. “Will I be able to erase my feelings for him?”

“Seoul Hospital, how may I—”

Inguk instantly ends the call. He’s already let Eunji ruined his fun night and now, Eunji made him worried for him for a dumb reason. “Oi, don’t tell me, you’re not really in pain, right?” He points to his phone. “I almost called an ambulance for you, but you’re not really hurt, aren’t you?”

With her eyes slightly closed, she raises a hand. “I am hurt!” She gradually lowers her hand as she defends her claims. “It didn’t hurt when I hammered my finger. It didn’t hurt when I seesawed my toe. It didn’t hurt when I slipped from the roof. It didn’t hurt when my employees undermined my abilities because of my gender.”

Inguk doesn’t know how to respond. Or react.

They’ve never been this personal before. He has witnessed several of her injuries, and he has witnessed and overheard some behind the scenes insults and curses about her, but he’s never heard or witnessed her side of the story. He never needed to, because he knew—well, now he clarifies that he had simply assumed—that she is a capable person who has abilities to not be bothered with those kinds of things.

“But...why does loving someone…” her hand resting on her head slides to cover one side of her face and the other hand on her chest slides up to cover the other side, “…hurt this much?”

“Does this have something to do with Luhan?” Inguk already knew that Eunji had went to visit Luhan at the photoshoot, and since Eunji’s talking about love, he’s deduced to finding the culprit is his friend. “What did he do?”

Eunji shakes her head. Her hands still cover her face. “What should I do? What if it’s true?”

“What if what’s true?”

Eunji wipes her tears and removes her hands. “I know Luhan adores children. I know I don’t. He was in a committed relationship. I never was. He wants his family. I am not related to him.”

Inguk sighs. “Is this about that whole clingy question you asked a while back?” He sits beside her again. “I told you that it’s all a fair game.”

“But at the end, he gets to choose, doesn’t he?”

“T-true…”

She scowls at him. “Then it’s not a fair game! She’s won his heart, and she’s still in his heart!”

His eyes widen. “Y-you know…!” …Hana is Luhan’s ex?

“He sees his ex-wife in Hana!” She may be drunk, but the cause of this is because she had incidentally witnessed the inaudible, but somewhat secretive conversation between Hana and Luhan at the photoshoot when they were outside of the women’s bathroom. She was not able to hear them say everything, but she did get to hear Hana’s firm commentary right before she left Luhan to sadly look away about how she had chosen Taeyang.

Having said the basis of her worries, which stupefies Inguk to no end, she falls on her side to the bed and resumes crying.

He mentally makes some assessments. Miraculously, builder-woman is dumb when it comes to her love life so she can’t make the correlation between the relationships her friend has with the Lu brothers. At the same time, Inguk raises his eyebrows in fatigue, I’ve been involuntarily included with information I don’t know what to do with. He warily asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

No answer.

There’s got to be a reason why she’s here, right? He knows that she won’t ever whimsically want to come to his place. They’re not that close with each other, and he personally thinks she’s disgusted of him with the ways he handles his affairs with plentiful women.

“…friend.” She utters on his pillow.

“Huh?”

It takes her a while to answer again. This time, she sits up and with moist, red eyes, she says, “Because you’re my only friend.”

He wants to laugh because it makes her look like some lone wolf, but when he makes out that this comment may be true because of her previous comment about how she’s possibly hated at her own work place—and the fact that she’s hardly surrounded by women of her age due to her taste in career—he begins to sympathize her.

“And…” she continues.

He intently listens. Is she going to say something along the lines that he’s the only person she can really trust even though she acts like she hates him? If so, he’s so pumped to hear any and all the compliments she’s going to say.

“…I thought…maybe you could…do me a favor.”

His so-called dream fades within two seconds of its birth. He glowers at her and monotonously questions, “What?”

“Make Hana fall for you.”

*

“Morning,” Inguk nonchalantly says to Eunji without looking at her. He is lying on his side on the couch facing the TV. He has no work today because he had thought he’d have a wild night yesterday—had not for drunk Eunji interrupting—so he’s in his casual attire: shirtless and in boxers.

Eunji gives him the same reaction. “Morning.” She calmly enters the living room and sits on a single chair adjacent of him. “What you watching?”

“There’s nothing good to watch.” He momentarily glances at her. “There’s food in the back if you’re hungry.”

With a serious face and a dry tone, she asks, “Can I trust you?”

“After the horrific night you gave me, what do you think?” He, too, jokes back with the same serious and dry expression.

She smiles to herself and gets up to head to the kitchen to fix herself some lunch. It’s a first time her hangover caused her to sleep past morning. She hardly drinks to the point where she wakes up past ten and with a migraine. But yesterday was an exception. As she loudly finds her way in his kitchen—which she doesn’t care—she casually starts a new conversation. “Thanks for letting me sleep for the night.”

“No problem.” He says it as if it’s the most usual thing in the world.

And it bothers her.

The both of them know how awkward it really is for themselves. They only meet whenever Luhan is present—because it’s mostly at his workplace that they see each other—and have never really spent any unplanned time with each other before. This, although uncomfortable and definitely unforeseen, is their first.

“Sorry, but…” she finds his forks and spoons in the most unfitted place of all—inside a plastic, bright, yellow cup in the refrigerator. Right in the middle of everything. She loses her train of thought and instead, focuses her attention on them. “Oi, where are your spoons?”

“Ah, check the fridge. It should be in a container or something.”

She tries to stay calm and not question too much about his oddities. Interestingly, as she makes this mental note, she realizes that today, she’s found very atypical “facts” about Inguk, thanks to her sudden sleepover, of course. Although being drunk and with a hangover is the main reason for oversleeping, another is partially because she found herself snooping around his personal space.

He likes to keep his shoes aligned and organized by light to dark colors—he has over eight pairs of shoes when she personally counted it, earlier before coming down the stairs. His clothes are usually of the color white, however, and he even uses facial products. The only facial product she has ever used is sunscreen, and so when she saw them, she read each bottle to understand its uses. She was baffled when she came to the conclusion that he uses four different moisturizers, two different sunscreens, and six different bottles of cologne.

Even though she’s a girl herself, she doesn’t have this much beauty products on her table; in fact, she doesn’t even have a table in her bedroom at all.

As she stays there, gazing off into space with those realizations running in her head, she doesn’t sense Inguk entering the kitchen.

“It’s there.” He points to the cup.

“H-huh?” She looks at where he points to and comes back to the reality of getting a spoon. She randomly takes one out of the cup and rests it on her plate that is only filled with rice.

“Did you not see the chicken curry on the stove?” He looks around. Nothing is being cooked or heated. “Or did you not like it?” He walks around her to the other side of the fridge. “Should I cook you something else instead?”

“No, this is fine,” she says. “A-actually,” she adds a smile, “I’m surprised you can cook.”

“I have to,” he comments. He closes the fridge when she backs away and heats up the crock pot with the chicken curry. “When you live alone, you gotta look out for yourself.”

“I know that well.” She finds herself blurting out and bashfully looks away.

“What do you mean?” He leans on the fridge, opposite of her. “You have your parents and your siblings with you.”

“Yeah…but, sometimes, being with them…” her hands tighten around her plate. “…feels a bit…unbearable.”

“And you can’t move out or get rid of them because of the family job.” He finishes for her, understanding her situation.

“If you ever need a fresh of breath air,” he sends her a flirtatious smile, “I’m always available for—”

“Don’t send me any of your useless flattering.” She walks away from him to the stove to check up on the curry. “You made quite a lot.”

“Well, I do have a guest, an uninvited guest.” He says in a joking manner, not knowing that coming back to that subject brought waves of discomfort to her more than to him. He sees and hears no kind of response from her.

Only her backside faces him.

He asks, “You okay?”

“D-did I…do anything weird yesterday?” She doesn’t turn around.

He can’t tell if it’s because she’s embarrassed. Or worried. But he shouldn’t be curious about her reasons. He should be worried about his own responses. He’s not that close with her to understand how she’d take certain honest replies, but at the same time, they do have an indescribable relationship that’s different from any kind of relationship he has had before.

What is their relationship anyway?

And even if they didn’t have any relationship, the big problem that really holds him back is her weird and misconception about the ex-Lu couple. What’s he to say about that?

“Oh,” he utters. He goes around her and reaches to turn off the stove. “This is heated well enough by now.” He avoids eye contact. “I think I’m going to get a bite too.”

She receives the hint that he doesn’t want to answer her questions, and although it’s going to bother her for who knows when, she takes this as a sign that it’s best for her to not ask. Or know. She plays along with his silent decision, and instead, an idea pops in her mind. “Hey, got time for the fresh air you volunteered for?”

His interest is perked. He didn’t expect she would ever ask. Not even if she was on the brink of death and he was somehow her only savior. He half-joking says, “Depends if you’re going to give me your body.”

She grins. “My body is what you’re going to be constructing with.”

And she is serious.

*

“Morning, love birds,” comments one of Hana’s co-workers when she sees Hana getting dropped off and escorted by Luhan. “Stop showing off your love.”

She, Hana, and Luhan enter the building and continue their light morning conversation.

“Morning,” Hana says back, not daring to comment about Luhan.

“Thank you,” Luhan includes. He puts a gentle hand around his friend’s back. “My sweetie is still shy when we’re in pub—”

Hana throws a punch at his stomach. “You can leave now, or you’ll be late for work.”

“Ah!” the co-worker exclaims, scaring the people in the lobby. She points to Luhan. “Now I know who you look like!” She widely grins at him and inches in closer. “Mr. Lu of Sunny Village! The young bachelor known to have a passion for toys!”

The receptionist nearby overhears and covers her gasp. “Yes! He won last year’s international award for donating half of his savings for the needy and giving new, free toys too!”

Almost everyone in the lobby comes to surround Luhan and starts to say various statements of the businessman and while doing so, Hana unintentionally gets shoved to the back.

Hana takes this opportunity to give an objective view of her friend and for the first time, she feels like she doesn’t know who the man in front of her is. She doesn’t doubt his competence, but all the pieces of new information she’s hearing from around her doesn’t resonate in her mind. Had she been avoiding him for that long that she missed out on his accomplishments? In front of her, now, she can’t help but feel like he’s a stranger to her. How his smile doesn’t belong to her, his hands can touch others, and his gaze is for another.

At the same time, she’s proud and happy that her friend is doing something and making a name for himself. She had seriously assumed he’d stay his kid self and wouldn’t grow up until his late forties. But he proved her wrong. He is now a grown man with a mature mentality and has a reasonable attitude.

But what about her?

Nothing in her life has changed.

From an objective point of view, she’s a coward, hiding from the things she left behind. She won’t face Luhan head on with her real and honest feelings. She’s not even prepared to tell Taeyang the truth, and she doesn’t want to.

Worst of all, she doesn’t want Kris to find his resolve.

If all of these were to happen, she’d be left with nothing. Luhan would probably leave her. Taeyang would hate her. And Kris would probably give Taeyang away.

Gentle arms wrapped around her waist, and she shoots a look up at the person, Luhan, who meekly looks down at her. She tries to struggle out but the cheers from the crowd in front of them encouraged and supported him, so she didn’t want to embarrass him by not cooperating. Instead, all she does is whisper to him in coyness.

“What are you doing now?” she hisses to him.

“This.” He slaps a smooch at her lips and squeezes her tight.

The crowd goes wild. One of the comments told them to get a room, which makes Hana blushes.

When he pulls away, she pouts in embarrassment and doesn’t dare to look at anyone in the eyes. Luhan, on the other hand, thankfully expresses his gratitude to his supporters and then gives another look at his friend.

He pinches her cheeks, leans in, and says, “I’ll pick you up later, k?”

She doesn’t bother to glance up and only nods.

“Bye.” He lets go of her cheeks and joyfully walks out.

The co-worker comes over to Hana and rests an arm over her shoulders. “No need to be shy, Hana. You two are wonderful couple.”

The word “couple” echoes in her mind and brings terror to her. It’s the word she wishes she can see herself have with Luhan, but it’s also a word she dreads when she pictures them together. While her co-workers go back to work, she slowly head to her office.

We can’t be a couple.

*

“Wait!!!” Eunji shouts, putting a hand out in distressed. She has taken a few days off to start a personal training with the one person she thought she’d never be hanging out with—Inguk. She had figured that since he’s close with Luhan and has been with a lot of girls, maybe he can help her act more like a girl that suits Luhan’s ideal girl to win his heart. But before she can even win his heart, she needs to win her physical limits.

At the moment, she’s wearing a six-inch, bright yellow stiletto with a neon orange A-line dress with a mustard yellow overcoat. Due to these absurd colors, she has been the center of attention once she stepped out of the shop. What’s even more absurd is that the person who chose these outfits was none other than Inguk. She thought he’d have better taste, but apparently not.

To add onto the discomfort of her attire, her face feels like glue is patted all over, thanks to the heavy makeup—black smoky eyes, long and wispy falsies, and a bloody red, matte lipstick. She’s rather have mud all over her face than all of the chemicals and toxins she has on.

Even though she’s angry that Inguk made her do this, she can’t help but trust him. It is her who allowed him to do whatever he needs to do to make her become and act and look like a lady, a lady that can seduce any man who lays eyes on her. Right now, not only men are looking at her, but women too. She guesses it’s working, since she’s the center of the attention in a shopping mall where she and Inguk have gotten the makeover finished with. Now, they’re just flaunting around to pra