07  White is for something new    God, where was the boyfriend when you need him?
  Sehun took the bus to go rescue Jinri and Sora. Such damsels in distress, he hated it. He hated everything. He was supposed to eat a delicious dinner with his best friend, but here he was, saving some girls’ asses.
  This was Jongin’s mess, why was he caught up? But nonetheless, he knew he was somewhat inside the circle too. With Soojung being involved as well. Screw that head designer’s love life. Drawing people over like a magnet. A magnet of trouble, it was.
  He arrived at the bus stop but he had to run a few meters to reach the exact spot where the girls were. When he got there, he was all sweaty again. And he just showered. Damn it. He just finished arranging a whole choreography as well. His muscles were killing him. Double damn it.
  “Sehun! Sehun, over here!” Sora shouted, waving her hand in the air.
  Sehun rolled his eyes but advanced towards them anyway. It was indeed a scene. Sora hugging Jinri to stop her. Jinri shouting about pulling all the hair off some ’s head. The owner of the stall looking at them sternly – maybe they haven’t paid yet. A few passerbies stopping to see what the commotion was about.
  “Really sorry for the trouble,” she apologized immediately. “I just don’t know what to do anymore – AW!"    Jinri just got out of Sora's grip that she almost tumbled. Unaffected, the head designer, however,  ran towards the other side of the street were Flour Beats was. It was almost obvious now it wasn’t Jongin she wanted anymore. It was Soojung. Oh, on for the cat fight.   “JINRI, STOP!” Sora yelled.
  Sehun just rolled his eyes again before running towards Jinri. She would cross the street and there wasn’t even a pedestrian. Sehun grabbed her arm but she pushed him off.
  “Who are you, idiot?” she snapped at him.
  Sehun scoffed. This . “What do you want to do, Jinri?” You’re out of your mind.
  “I’m going to behead someone and cut someone’s off. Oh, wait. If I do that I won’t be able to anything if ever we get back together," she said thoughfully. "I’ll just make him eat rotten eggs then,” she decided, somehow pleased with herself, grinning wildly, eyes half-closed.
  Sehun laughed at that. She was obviously walking about Jongin right now. “You’re crazy. Come on. Now’s not the time to do that,” he said. “I’ll take you home because your brother, your best friend, and your boyfriend are all worthless. Jesus, what’s up with the B’s?”
  Jinri stopped struggling and looked at him. “What are you? Are you not a B?” she asked skeptically, as if to make sure.
  He shook his head. “No. Not a B.”
  “What are you then?”
  “I’m a G.”
  “What’s that?”
  “God.”
  “DBSK?”
  “Idiot. Come on.” He pulled her back to where Sora was. When they got there she was on the phone.
  “Yes, yes. I get it, mom. I get it. Okay, I – yeah, I’m going home. I know it’s late – yeah. Okay – calm down, mom, gosh. Yes, I’ll be there in – yeah – bye.” She hung up and turned to Sehun and Jinri. Sora didn’t even want to start talking about her mascara and lipstick. She must’ve looked horrible. “Sehun –”
  “She has a car, right?” he cut her off. He wasn’t that heartless. He would let her go easily, wordlessly. First, because he didn’t need her to stay longer explaining how her mom wanted her home in two seconds. He hated girls rambling and complaining. And Sora looked darn tired too. Second, he just wanted to get out of this place. People were staring.
  “Huh? Oh, yeah, she does. Pink Mustang. Plate number’s 9429. It’s still in B’s parking lot. The key’s in here,” she said, handing a humongous bag to Sehun. “I’m really sorry. I need to go home now. Mom’s all hipped up –”
  “Just go,” he interrupted. “I’ll take her.”
  Sora didn’t hesitate. He was Jinri’s best friend’s brother, wasn’t he? And Junhong himself gave his number. He must be trustworthy. She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go then. Bye?”
  “Yeah.”
  Sora turned to her best friend and pointed at her accusingly. “Jinri, you . Good thing you didn’t puke on me. I’ll get you an ice cream for that some other time. Bye,” she bided and then she went off.
  Now what?
  Sehun turned to Jinri and there she was, head resting on the crook of his neck, his arm supporting her shoulder. She was all sloppy and slurry. She was nearly dozing off.
  “Hey, designer, don’t sleep on me. Let’s get your pink Mustang and I’ll drive you home.”
  Arm still circled around Jinri’s shoulders to hold her up, he was about to take a step when someone shouted, “Hey, good-looking rainbow kid!”
  He stopped. Good-looking was nice. Rainbow was bearable. Kid was neither. For Pete’s sake he was twenty-three!
  He turned around, only to see an old lady, the owner of the tent, waving at him. “Your girlfriend and her friend haven’t paid yet.”
  Indeed. Screw it.     “You seriously own this place?” Soojung asked for the nth time, just to make sure.
  They were now seated at the far end of the shop near the glass wall waiting for the hot chocolate and pastry they ordered. A small square table was setting them apart, a little pot of a cute flowering plant sitting awkwardly on the middle of it.
  “Seriously,” Jongin replied.
  Soojung snickered. “You’re a baker?” she asked in disbelief. She just never imagined Jongin being a professional. You know, having a nice, decent job, owning a cute, pretty pastry shop in the middle of the city, being the boss of friendly (and good-looking) employees. It didn’t mean she imagined him as a gang leader or something, but it wasn’t far from that. Maybe a gamer? A racer or a car enthusiast since he had a nice car? Or maybe just a son of a businessman, ling money from his father like it was freaking alienable. Well, maybe it was.
  “I don’t seem like it?” he asked, smiling. She should know he rarely smiles.
  She shook her head. “Definitely.”
  Jongin chuckled. “Now saying sorry inside my own shop is more embarrassing.”
  “Asking for forgiveness is never embarrassing,” she pointed out.
  He nodded knowingly, agreeing. “I’m just sacred,” he admitted. “If you do not forgive me, I dint even know if Jinri will. It’s frustrating. I didn’t really want it to happen. I mean us.” The word 'us' was so foreign in his tongue. It somehow itched.
  She wanted to say she didn’t want it to happen too, but her uneasiness got the best of her. remained shut.
  “I was drunk. You were drunk,” said Jongin. “I can’t even remember how we got inside that freaking room. I can’t even remember anything. The only thing I can recall was Jinri standing outside the door with a cannot-be-painted expression.”
  It felt so tacky talking about it like this. He was talking about it as if it wasn’t about . As if it was a very comfortable topic, not sensitive at all, not awkward.
  Soojung’s mind, however, was starting to replay everything it remembers that night. The kiss, the touch, the whispers, the s. The feeling of having him near, the feeling of the distance gone, everything. The smell of the bed, of Jongin’s hair, of his body, of his fabric detergent, of the room itself. She was drunk, but she couldn’t help it. She was keen with this kind of stuffs. She was unconscious, but her mind senses weren’t. And if ever Jongin touches even