“Why haven’t you updated?” Rapmon’s red converse hinge against my front door, preventing me shutting him out of my apartment.

“Are you stalking me?” The weight of my body is pressed against the door but just with the push of his left shoulder, Rapmon comes barging in with an endless amount of takeout bags in both of his hands. Rapmon’s eyes glance over at the overflowing piles of garbage bags lying on the brown stained carpet of my house. He slowly turns around, revealing his blonde hair sticking to his perspired forehead.

His eyes grow even fuller as he glances up and down my outfit: One humongous piece of yellow fabric with two horns attacked on top of my head-- a Pikachu Onesie. Rapmon’s mouth drops open, blinks twice and eventually looks away. He swallows as he struggles his way over to the even messier kitchen counter.

I follow him through the war of garbage— tossing another piece of garbage after another. “Rapmon—“

“Didn’t I say I was going to take care of you?” He unexpectedly turns around, making me bump into his chest. He grabs my wrist and sits me down on the counter after he clears the expired newspaper resting on it. He clears his throat and coughs from the pungent smell and dust. “A lot of people must live here—for it to be so…” Sees a family of roaches. “Lively.” He grabs the newspaper and smashes the cockroaches, repeatedly, making them scatter.

“It’s best if you let them be.” I murmur. Rapmon sharply turns his head at me—scrunching his nose and twitching both his eyes and lips at my comment. He finally looks away and smacks his lips twice before taking out the food he brought.

“Thank goodness I decided to bring take-out.” He says, putting a spoon next to it to the round white container. “I brought you soup but since I wasn’t what you liked, I brought some street foods: spicy rice cakes, kimbab, fish cakes, pancakes—“ Rapmon goes on, taking out food after another in that white magical bag.

“Thank you…” I say silently—impressed by how thoughtful he is. He stops-- hearing a word of gratitude—and props his face against his hands as his elbows lean against the kitchen counter.

“Then, why—“ He voice growls. “Have you not updated?”

“Huh?” His piercing glare is enough to melt the white plastic spoon in my mouth.

“I have given you gold when we were at the hospital—then, why? Why am I still a guy that you want to kick in the balls?” His voice rises. “You think it’s easy for any girl to meet me at the grocery store? You think I would take any girl to the hospital after she falls down on her own? You think I’m the type of guy that would go on telling every girl I’ll take care of them? You think I’m sort of ert?!” He’s throwing up his hands in the air like he’s rapping. I stare blankly at him—seeing his spit sprinkle and landing on my floor. He looks over at me—just as dumbfounded as I am. He rubs his face in frustration and takes a seat next to me. He opens the steaming soup, spoons a spoonful, and holds in front of me—waiting for me to open up. He stares at me, frozen with a spoonful held out in front of him . “What? You don’t want to eat this?” He asks.

“No… it’s just—“ I fumble with my hands. “It’s too hot.” I say. Rapmon’s chin props out, looking at the soup.

“Then what do you want me to do?” He grits his teeth as his voice echoes. I imitate blowing on the soup to cool it down. “You want me to cool it down for you?” I smile, nodding—happily like a child that can’t speak. “I’m not doing that!” He says, eating the spoonful of soup he had and shoving the spoon down for it to clang against the marble counter top.

I frown. “I bet Yoon Gi would—“ Rapmon grabs another spoonful and blow it gently enough to cool the soup. I smile, deviously, seeing how Rapmon reacts whenever I mention Suga. ‘But why?’ I think to myself. Rapmon holds another spoonful in front of me. I bring my face close to the spoon and inhale the soup. Rapmon’s eyes are focused on my lips—making sure I don’t spill the soup. He stares to make sure the temperature is to my liking.

“Don’t mention Suga hyung in front of me.” Rapmon’s gaze moves up from my lips to my eyes—making full contact as he speaks. I stare back at him—my mouth slightly open. Then, the corner of his lips start to rotate up. “And that’s the end of another chapter!” He says, bouncing in his seat. “It should at least end like that! The perfect cliff hanger!” I tilt my head to the side, wondering what he’s going at. “I told you, Grace! I’m giving you gold here! Make sure to include what I just said in the new chapter, okay?”

“Bu-But I’m the author—“ I pout, looking at the soup.

“You’re not doing a very good job updating so I’m inspiring you.” He leaps off the chair. “It’s really nothing more.” He puts on his jacket and searches for something in his pocket. He grabs a white cellphone resting on the kitchen counter and puts it against his—exchanging contact. “Grace,” He looks behind him as he puts on his red converse. “I have to go back to the studio now but I’ll be checking to see if you update the story! So, work on it. I’ll be looking forward to it, Miss. Author!” Rapmon, like the way he barged in, leaves through the doors the way he want. My eyelids flutter—confused as to what just happened again.

I look down at the soup and talk to myself—my voice gradually getting louder and angrier as I finish my sentence. “Is he playing with me? THAT FATHER CREATOR OF JACKA--” The door creaks open, the tip of a white blonde hair peeking through.

“And, if you need anything—text me.” He smiles and shuts the door again.

“But that’s Faith—“ Too late. Rapmon goes off running to the beat of his own rap.