- It’s allri-i-ight! – Yongjae did a fancy, ual twist with all his body and smiled invitingly. - Uri chibeodo kaja!

Back from bathroom mirror the other Youngjae smiled, too. That other Youngjae was holding a shred, up in his right hand, and soap foam was leaking out of it and further down the waist and forearm making him feel like being tickled.

Maybe that was the reason why he giggled before turning his attention back to cleaning. Maybe not.

God created a strange thing. Called it human. Gave him a lot too much ability to feel, too much to bear: one day he is bent with grief, the other he is dancing alone, singing, looking like he’s got the fire inside. Like he can glance – and indeed bring home whoever met his eyes in that suggestive spelling gaze.

But certainly Youngjae wasn’t thinking about it consciously. He just looked like the top of the world but there was no one to admire him and he simply continued wiping his bathroom stand with that soapy shred, carefully eliminating water and tooth paste stains from polished surface.

With unnecessary enthusiasm sometimes: one harsh movement of his elbow brought down the plastic glass which served him as a stand for toothbrushes. The glass itself made its way down to the floor but toothbrushes ended up in a freshly cleaned sink with sound and look of caramel sticks fallen outa Santa’s sack.

Two of them: one, standard white, belonging to Youngjae and the other, pink, which Daehyun brought last time ‘just in case’. He was maintaining all-that-serious face while Youngjae was laughing at devilish pink color of it.

Lately Youngjae couldn’t help but found simple things enjoyable.

Well… for some reason. Maybe God thought it was funny.

Youngjae bent, picked up the plastic glass from white-and-coffee-milk tiles of bathroom floor and put back the toothbrushes, white and pink one.

Than his mobile announced: Downtown music on the beat! – new message.

“Open the door”, - pleaded Junghon.

Downtown music on the…

“Turn on your door-bell. Why can’t you??”

Downtown music

“Hurry up. I’m waiting”

Youngjae sighed deeply. The brat-her was extra-supporting the wall near the front door with his spine. Had bored look but nevertheless started explaining what brought him here very agitatedly:

- Matter of life and death…

- Oh seriously, - clasped Youngjae. – What is it?

- Lend… - Junghon looked a little bit uneasy to speak. – Lend me you flat. Just for one night.

- Anything else? – asked Youngjae. – My year’s salary? My left kidney?

- I’m serious, - persuaded Junghon and even put his palms together like in praying. – I’ve promised guys…

But Youngjae wasn’t making fun also. All his beloved property, his shiny-cleaned toilet, leather sofa and vanilla shower gel to be given out for sacrilege? To teens who are absolutely unaware of warmth and coziness of personal belongings bought with your own earned money?

Unthinkable.

- No, - said Youngjae.

- BUT! – burst Junghon.

- Are you nuts? – Youngjae made a face. – See you.

And closed the door. And double-checked his door bell was off.

But Junghon was offended. in the very heart, if you prefer. He stood behind the door which just had slammed in front of him with exact face of a kid being rejected when asked for a new toy.

- See you, - mumbled Junghon angrily to the door.

Well…

If Youngjae prefers paying higher prices.

That was a wet late spring morning when you clench fists inside your pockets in useless try to keep you coat from being blown aside. When you turn your face away from the moist wind throws at you like mad and yet feel your hairs get wet.

Musically it’s somewhere between noir and jazzy, an enjoyable softness and welcomed discomfort of decadence wet shoes.

Technically, if someone’s interested, it was lunch time when five of them were coming back to office from McDonalds holding their paper coffee cups. Without a proper pair Jungup was enjoying himself watching nine floors of glass and concrete surrounding a street from each side. Sometimes he messed in with his childish comments in Himchan and Youngguk’s conversation, created a burst of laughter and moved backwards to watchful meditation he was so good at.

Youngjae was entertaining himself with a game of side-looks. He sipped his coffee and smiled enigmatically. Daehyun, puzzled, kept asking:

- What? Why are you laughing? – but laughed along, too.

 Intentionally or again because of Youngja’s ill habits of having a good smoke after good meal they slowed before big spinning door and moved aside.

- What are you doing this weekend? – asked Daehyun. – I want to try one grill-bar.

Youngjae shrugged, as if not saying neither yes nor no.

- Why don’t you go alone?

- Just… - Daehyun looked puzzled. – Because…

With one hand stretched out, tapping the end of his cigarette, Youngjae was looking at him, purposefully, smiling again.

- What? – asked Daehyun one more time.

One more time Youngjae shrugged like “Sorry, I don’t know” and turned a bit to protect his cigarette from the wind which with the last burst torn the ash tip, nearly killing it.

- Wonderful, - noticed Daehyun. – But that grill-bar…

Youngaje smoked, enjoyed and couldn’t think of anything more to want.

Sometimes Daehyun was pissed off. Just like everyone can be.

Youngjae thought it was nothing extraordinary listening to violent tapping on keyboard to his left – some bugs Daehyun has difficulties to fix.

Something got broken when you did absolutely nothing that could lead to you messing in with debugger, logging everything to out to check.

Maybe just tired.

“Coffee?” – proposed Daehyun after a while.

“Yes”, - Youngjae answer to his message easily. Locked his PC and stood up, yawning.

- Boil some water for us too? – asked Himchan when he was already on his way to kitchen.

Youngjae was all jazzy and sleepy when Jung materialized right out from the air and asked his back:

- Explain, please.

Sixth sense was well aware somehow.

Youngjae turned to him:

- What?

Daehyun’s face was concerned and lips pressed tight.

- Molesting my car, then my flat… What’s the reason?

He leaned forward but Youngjae neither ducked back from his anger nor looked at him.

- You liked it, yeah? – asked Daehyun with disgusting sarcasm. – Explain.

There was nothing Youngjae could or wanted to explain. He watched mini-kitchen’s floor while something jazzy and remorseful kept playing, spinning in his head.

Wasn’t it all thanks to his attack on Daehyun’s property?

Without it they would forever be trains riding same route in opposite direction. Meeting once per hour at main station.

But sure there was nothing close to philosophy in Daehyun’s head. He wanted explanation.

At least apology, any sign of regret! Not younger’s immovable figure, stubborn bent down head.

- Youngjae! – hissed Daehyun.

He pulled Youngjae’s hand like in anger, like he was about to do something worse when Himchan entered the room, interrupting.

Without saying anything Daehyun left.

Wisely Himchan pretended that he noticed nothing.

Everybody knows paying is nothing to Youngjae. He just knows that’s how the world works: you pay for food, for warmth, electricity and car parking.

For good food your pay more than just for decent.

He thinks ten thousands are more than enough for car painting and new tires – if you forget for a moment that Daehyun’s unfunny jokes are priceless frequently.

Younjgae leaves money on his table but miraculously they move to his own desk next morning.

Hopefully playing jazz is still as good as any day.

It doesn’t fade away no matter what.

Plus vodkajuce.