Chapter One: 

[ the best friend ]

credits going out to the enchanted graphic shop

“Chaerriii!”

A voice interrupts me from my progressive trance. I glance at the clock and I frown when I see the time.

04:00 am?

It’s late. Perhaps I’m imagining things. Nobody would call out my name this time in the morning.

I rule out that it's my boyfriend. Besides, the latest time he’d ever go to my place would be at two in the morning for a spontaneous booty call. He has common sense to never drop by any later. As much as I love him, even somebody like me has a limit.

Therefore, somebody calling out my name at this time is impossible. I’ve got to be hearing things, I must be!

Perhaps my brain is telling me take a break? I have been working hard for a few hours straight...

Rubbing my dry eyes, I lean against the back of my chair, stretching out my legs and my arms simultaneously towards the ceiling. I swirl the glass of wine, taking a sip as I appreciatively admire the draft before me.

The draft had been completed yesterday, but I had wanted to brush up on some parts because I hadn’t been completely satisfied with it. I was going to stick to the draft, but after tossing and turning in bed, I found myself sitting at my desk and making last minute adjustments to it. The draft looks much more polished now. A few more slight modifications and I’ll be happy with it.

Many people often wonder why I place so much effort on my work, describing it as laborious and time-consuming. But, in all honesty, when you’re passionate about something it is worth the time. As rare as it sounds, I actually love my job. Even as I now double-check that every line in the draft has been drawn in accurate precision, I feel gratification with what I do.

It suits my personality as well, since I’m a terrible perfectionist.

But it's inevitable. You have to be a perfectionist to survive in the architectural world. It's both a definite and demanding prerequisite for such a fatiguing career. For example, if one angle is to be drawn the wrong way with the wrong dimensions, it could mean the construction of a crumbling building that would be designed to fall apart.

I my lips, leaning forwards on the edge of my seat as I fix another minor detail. With the mechanical pencil resting in my grasp, I carefully drag the sharp tip of the lead against the transparent ruler. When the grey streak connects to the other line, I smile.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

So...I’m not hearing things?

Furrowing my eyebrows, I wriggle off the seat to pass the lounge room and answer the doorbell. I tiptoe, looking through the peephole and I immediately let out a groan when I recognise who it is.

He's dressed simply in dark denim jeans with a plain sleeveless shirt. Even though it's chilly outside, he makes no effort to hide his bulging biceps.  The idiot has his guitar case slung around his other shoulder. He's intentionally chosen to dress like this to get ladies to stare at him. I know him too well. I really do -- and right now I want him out of my sight. I want him to turn back the way he’s come from and-

“I know you’re home!”

Great.

“Chaeri!”

Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

How many times does this idiot have to ring the doorbell?

Irritated, I throw the door wide open and I watch as the newcomer staggers inside my apartment.

“Chaeri!” He screams.

He lunges at me then casually dangles an arm around my shoulder before I can move away from him.

The first thing I notice is that he reeks of cigarettes and soju. He smells awful. His guitar case is swinging back and forth, causing his gait to become unsteady. Feeling like he'll lose his balance at any moment, I redirect him towards the living room, dumping him onto the couch. Despite the bad landing, his guitar is safe and in one piece.

His eyes close and he looks like he’ll be falling asleep -- but I won’t let him get off this easily. For him to turn up at my apartment at this ridiculous time without announcement and disturbing me while I was working is unforgivable...even if it is him.

I kick him, yelling, “Ya! Choi Jonghoon!”

He stirs, attempting to sit up, but his body fails him as he rolls back onto the couch. With his eyelids half open, he grins widely up at me like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

“Cherry, cherry, cherry girl.” He slurs my nickname out loud.

I frown. “Go home, Jonghoon! You're annoying.”

“But I've lost my keys.” Jonghoon reasons out. He then lifts his longs legs onto the couch, laying down in a foetal position, making it appear as if it's his actual home. “The boys will get angry if I ring them up this early. You're always up, so I thought I'd pay you a visit.”

“At this time?” I say, sarcastically. He thinks he can fool me. “Jonghoon, I can see smudged lipstick on your cheeks and those hickies on your neck. Why didn't you stay at that girl's house tonight instead?”

“What girl?” He asks. “I have many girls.”

“That's the problem.” I sigh.

Jonghoon's always been like this. You'd think after all these years he'd settle down, but the dope hasn’t.  We're already in our mid twenties, yet he acts like a darn fifteen year old. In fact, perhaps he's gotten more immature post FTISLAND's debut. Instead of maturing, he's been growing up backwards. Exposure to alcohol, and fame has made him worse. There's no doubt about it. And, for some reason, I have to deal with these reciprocations.

“Why did you come here?” I don't know why I'm even bothering to talk to him at the moment because he’s nowhere close to being sober. "Where were you?"

“I went to some chick's place. We met at a club and she took me home. The next thing is that I'm awake and the whole place stinks of curry. I really had to escape," Jonghoon says, remembering in horror.

Jonghoon hates curry. Ever since he had gotten food poisoning a year ago, the scent of curry triggers him to vomit. No wonder he had left the girl's house instead of initiating the second round in bed. I'd feel sorry for him if he hadn't interrupted my peace and quiet.

He continues, yawning, “Anyway, you live by and I knew you'd be awake still.”

As much as I know Jonghoon too well, he also knows me just as well. The benefits of having someone know you inside-out can be a curse just more than a blessing at times.

Jonghoon suddenly collapses into a fit of laughter. His body shakes as he, out of the blue, points directly at my chest.

“What?” I grumble at him. I don't have time to deal with him acting like a kid. I really don't.

“Chaeri!” Jonghoon exclaims. “You're not y. You have no s.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, but I can't help but follow his gaze.

That's when I realise that, despite being drunk, he is making some sense. I feel like dunking my head in ice-cold water when I realise what I'm wearing. Then again, it depends if it even counts as wearing something since I'm only dressed in my dark purple laced lingerie.

“You're an ," I scowl.

I curse and throw a cushion at his face. For a drunk, he easily dodges my aim. It only escalates his laughter  as he continues to point and chuckle at me harder when I cover my upper body with my arms.

If I had known that I would have an unwanted visitor, I would have worn something. But since I had literally rolled out of bed to work on my project, I hadn't bothered to put anything on.

It's one of my bad habits I had acquired ever since I had moved out of home. Who knew that walking around your home, practically , was the best feeling ever? It’s comfortable. If I had known I was having an unexpected visitor, I would have worn something less revealing...and now that Jonghoon’s seen my attire I feel like drowning in humiliation.

I stumble into my bedroom and shake my head. “Small s, my .”

I study my cleavage in the mirror and continue to speak to myself, “I have average-sized s, thank you very much!”

I chuck on a bathrobe and head back into the living room to give Jonghoon a piece of my mind...only to see that he's already in a deep slumber.

My lips curve upwards when I see him sleeping merrily away.

Don't tell him I said this, but I think he looks kinda cute. Seeing him sleeping and unguarded almost makes him look innocent. However, I do know, that once he opens his mouth, he is anything but. Jonghoon can be such a jerk.

Unfortunately, this jerk happens to be my best friend.

•••••••••••••••

Last Edited: 09.03.16

06.01.14

(a/n)

Rewrote this prologue. A  revised version that I'm much more happy with.  Hope you like the start! :)