JungKook had intended to get make-up help from Momo for the fourth time this week, begging for her to just put some concealer under his eyes so his co-workers would stop asking. They still demanded to know whether he still went to sleep and the time he fell asleep and why he looked like such a ing insomniac all the time, and he really didn't know whether he would make it through the day if they didn't stop asking and looking and whispering.

Except Momo left before he could ask.

So JungKook drudged into the living room, where Seohyun sat with a new book that she'd pleaded for him to buy. "Seohyun?" He called out quietly. She turned, prepared to close her book and mark her page with a torn corner of sketchbook paper. "Are you any good at make-up?" He asked. She cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why? I mean, I am, but you look fine," she returned. He bit his lip and pulled the cylinder of concealer that Momo had bought for him at the drugstore, walking forward with heavy steps to give it to her. She took it and scanned the label before she sat up and put her book on the table. "What do you want me to do? Sit on the couch, I can do something for you," she told him. He obeyed and sat on the couch.

"Just, make it look like I sleep well. My co-workers are gonna worry," he requested. She shrugged and opened the make-up, pulling the applicator from a tube of cream.

"You know, you can't just pretend that you're doing well if you're not. Someone's gonna figure it out," she advised as she drew the pigment under his eyes and into his cheeks, defending that it was a better method of hiding his sleeplessness when she found the quizzical expression on his face was directed at her make-up application.

"Yeah, but I'm hoping the make-up will make them stop staring at me," he admitted. Seohyun frowned. "It's not like sleep would help me at this point anyway."

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously, focusing more on the make-up than eye contact. He dismissed the statement with a flimsy attempt for an excuse instead of telling her that Momo had turned to ecstasy last night, and he had to drag her home and keep her hands away so she would stop reaching for his belt buckle. He didn't want to say that Hirai Momo, the girl he'd met at the bar while she was doing shots of soju, was probably more interested in illegal drugs than she was in their relationship. He didn't even want to think about how she wanted nothing but his body and a sense of ego from their encounters. They were so purely physical and he didn't want to think that perhaps she didn't find him all that exciting outside of the bedroom.

But hey, she was hot as and she made him feel wanted. "Momo, she... I don't know, you two don't look like you would fit," she offered softly, as if trying to be unheard, though she was unsuccessful in her effort.

"Okay," he replied when he didn't know what else to say. She met his eyes with a sort of melancholic sadness and sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You're not the first person who's told me that. But I