Park Kyung waited until the two women that were climbing up the stairs behind him went up two more levels, their voices becoming nothing more than indistinguishable muttering, to knock on the off-white door.

There was no response. He knocked again, harder, shifting his feet impatiently. Still nothing. Frowning, he banged on the door, pulling the surgical mask down to rest under his chin as he shouted.

“Hey! Woo Jiho! Open this damned door! Hey! Woo Jiho!”

If he hadn’t possessed good reflexes, he would have pounded his friend and leader’s face when the door swung open without warning. A sullen looking Zico squinted at him, a deep frown on his lips.

“What the hell, Kyung? What do you want?”

Kyung invited himself inside, slipping out of his shoes as he looked around. He could smell the seasoning of recently made ramen mixed in with the closeted scent of a man that worked too long and too hard.

“Open a window, would you?”

Zico ignored him, closing the door softly. Kyung had expected him to slam it shut.

There were dark circles under Zico's eyes. His hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a few days, his clothes wrinkled, as if he’d slept in them more than once.

Zico rubbed his eyes, stumbling to follow his friend’s demands. The gust of air that wafted in carried a gentle chill with it, the trademark of a spring night.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Zico rubbing the back of his neck, rotating it this way and that. Kyung could tell he hadn’t stood up from his work station in hours.

“Why did you do it?” Kyung said without warning. He’d never been one to beat around the bush; he wasn’t about to start now. “Why did you mess up that filming?”

“Ugh. Are you here to lecture me about it, too? I’ve already heard it from everyone.” Zico pushed his way past Kyung, settling on his old, worn sofa. He draped his arm over his eyes, wishing that his band mate would go away.

“You got that right. What the hell happened? You’re never this unprofessional!”

“Ush!” Zico chunked a battered cushion at him. Kyung ducked, though just barely. “Stop nagging me! It’s not going to air anyway!”

“That’s the problem, Zico! What did you do that the producers were so disgusted with the footage?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull.”

The two of them stared at each other with narrowed eyes. Kyung’s fists were balled up at his sides, shaking with irritation. Zico shook his leg with impatient annoyance.

“There are rumors, you know?”

“There’s always rumors,” he rolled his eyes, pushing his blond hair out of his face.

Kyung scoffed. “I know Block B is known for being problematic, but really, if the rumors are true, as the leader, don’t you think you should have behaved better?”

Kyung held up his hand as he saw Zico open his mouth to protest. “No. Never mind as the leader, as a man, don’t you think you should have done better?”

“It was a stupid show, Kyung,” Zico said through gritted teeth.

“Stupid or not, if what the staff is saying among themselves true then you really ed up.”

Jumping to his feet, Zico closed the distance between them. He towered over him, but that did not intimidate Park Kyung at all. He looked up at his friend, making sure he could read the disappointment in his eyes.

“It. Was. A. Stupid. Show.”

Shaking his head slowly, Kyung moved away. “It may have been a stupid show. Hell, it was a pilot episode that would never see the light a day. But what you did to that poor girl was uncalled for.”

“You don’t know the half of it. You don’t know who she is.”

“Oh? Tell me, who is she? As far as I’m concerned, as far as the whole nation is concerned, she’s nothing more than a young rookie trying to make it in an already saturated industry.”

Zico fumed. He wanted to punch Kyung. His body twitched momentarily; the desire quickly passing. He knew that if Kyung knew the truth, he wouldn’t side with that girl. He knew that his friend would understand his reasons for having behaved in such a way. They both hated people like her. They were disgusted by their behavior and never hesitated to make it known.

But Zico refused to damage her image despite what he thought of her original nature. No one had to know what she used to be so long as she left him well off alone.

“You…don’t have to know.”

Kyung exhaled a long breath. “Zico, really? What the hell is going on? You’re not like this, ever. You’re one of the most professional men I know. What could she have possibly done?”

Zico sighed, running his hands through his oily hair. The dirty scent made him scrunch up his nose. He needed a shower. He needed sleep. He needed for everyone to stop badgering him about what had happened.

“Listen, Kyung, I’m tired bro. I need a shower and sleep. Can’t we talk later?”

The older boy looked at him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. If Zico didn’t want to talk there was no power on earth that would make him. “Yeah. Sure.”

They walked over to the door, Kyung handing him the bag of cold drinks he’d left by the entrance earlier. They said their goodnights with empty promises to finish their conversation later.

The door shut, the ring of the lock sliding into place signaling the forceful abortion of a conversation. Shuffling as he walked, Zico gathered his things, more than ready to go home and sleep.

When he’d agreed to film the episode, he had not been aware whom his partner would be. The thought of finding her on set—of her having the freedom to wander around without being questioned or restrained—had shocked him.

She had acted innocently, as if her past did not matter, as if she had a right to be there. That girl had also had the audacity to pretend not to know him!

The setup of the program had called for him to act sweetly, to accept it as a beautiful fate brought by a blind date. There was nothing beautiful about it, though.

No matter how hard Zico tried, he could not bring himself to act as if he had not met her before. He could not erase their first meeting from his mind or surpass the goose bumps that appeared on his arms when he recalled that night long ago.

His annoyance, anger, and hatred had proven to be too much. Zico had failed to control his snarky remarks and rude actions.

The girl had looked at him in confusion and hurt more than once. He’d never felt sorry for her. When she had casually initiated physical contact with him while in a store by slightly placing her fingers on his arm, Zico had jerked away as if she had electrocuted him.

He remembered the collective gasps of the production crew. He could only imagine what his face must have looked like contorted by disgusted loathing.

She had blinked up at him, looked at her hand, and then slowly lowered it. She’d laced her fingers together, clasping them before her to hide their tremors.

Zico remembered having implied that she disgusted him, that he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d mistreated her to the point that he was sure she would cry. But that girl had stood her ground. She had taken several breaks in between locations and returned to filming with a bright smile on her face.

He didn’t know how she did it. Then again, it was probably part of her nature to try and try again however difficult the obstacles, to find ways of getting what she wanted by intruding in other people’s personal space.

“Stay away,” Zico had pushed her aside when she’d come too close. “Don’t you know what personal space is?”

That had really made the PD angry. He’d called for a break, pulled him aside, and scolded him.

“Do you not want to do this? Is that why you’re being like this?”

“Yeah, that’s right, I don’t want to do this. Especially with her.”

“You agreed to this, Zico.”

“I agreed to film a blind date, yes, but blind dates can end up being hateful disasters. I don’t want to do this if she’s going to be the one I have to work with. I refuse.”

The PD had looked at him long and hard, scanning him up and down. “What the hell happened to you? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Just get her away from me. Hire someone else if you don’t want this show to flop.”

Zico had walked away. The girl had tried to approach him, to talk to him, but he had made it clear that he did not want to be around her. They’d gone on filming even after that, through it wasn’t long before everyone grew irate and tired.

As he pulled into the driveway of his home, Zico felt a little apologetic towards the production crew. The program had actually had a fun set up. He really would have enjoyed a blind date if it had been someone better suited to his taste.

The hot water pulled at the knots on his back, the steam clearing his surroundings. He could hear his mother talking with his father. He hadn’t seen his brother on the way in. Zico wondered if Taewoon would lecture him as well.

Without bothering to dry his hair properly, Zico stumbled across his room, dropped into bed; he fell into a hard, black, deep sleep seconds after his head hit his pillow.