“This is from the production crew, and this is from Jiwonnie. She wished you to get well soon and said she’ll visit with Jin Goo oppa after filming tomorrow.”

Hye Kyo made her way through Joong Ki’s apartment as soon as he opened the door, already familiar with the place where they often hung out after filming, and dropped some paper bags she carried on the coffee table in the living room. He followed her around and looked at the bags to examine the contents. Fruits, health drinks, snacks. Typical gifts for a bed-ridden patient.

“And this,” she continued, shoving her last paper bag to his hands, “is the bed-rest survival kit I promised you. These are my treasure, so treat this preciously.”

He took the paper bag and took out some classic movie DVDs inside it, and his face beamed at the sight. “Whoa, this is no joke. Your collection is amazing. My homestay is saved, noona, you're my hero.”

He picked Ladies of Rochefort DVD from the collection, the classic French movie that Kyo wouldn’t stop talking about and they planned to watch today, and went to his DVD player to put the movie on.

“Did you just finish filming?” he asked, pressing some buttons on the DVD player.

“We wrapped up at… two, I think? I had late lunch with Jiwon and some crews before coming here,” she answered as she shed her coat, revealing the beige knit sweater underneath, and she paced back to the alleyway just after the foyer to hang her coat in the open rack.

The way she was nonchalantly navigating her way all over his place felt so domestic – so couple-y, he couldn’t help but thought.

When she came back to the living room, he was already sitting on the short end of his L-shaped sofa, legs straightened out along the length of the couch. His casted arm was resting in his stomach, and his free hand was holding the remote control, fiddling with the stereo adjustment of his home theatre.

The movie started playing and he grabbed his home-control remote, pulling the curtains down and turning off the lights. The room went dark, the only light the one emanating from the TV screen.

Hye Kyo carefully sat down right next to him on the couch, and she stared at his cast. “How are you feeling? Have you seen the doctor again?”

 “Well… now it feels like nothing,” he answered, trying to move his casted arm around to no avail – it was slung tightly to his shoulder. “This thing is really tight, I can’t move my arm around at all. I had the check up this morning. He said to give it three more days before removing the shoulder sling. So… a week of canceled filming.”

She nodded and reached behind his back to reposition the couch pillows to support his posture better.

“Gwenchana. You should take your time, don’t rush it. Don’t beat yourself up too much over missing the filming. We got the schedule covered.”

She had said it to him countless times – firstly on the phone call when she first heard of his injury, then other countless times on kakaotalk everytime they talk about the filming and he let on the guilt of having to sit out his schedule. Still, it didn’t make it much easier for him – it was already three days after his injury, and having to do nothing but stay at home and recover while the other casts were working twice as hard to cover for his canceled schedule was terribly frustrating.

It really happened at the worst time possible. Their filming schedule was already crazy; it was late November, and they were tight on the deadline. They were supposed to film the important hostage rescue scenes right after the basement car chase scenes were wrapped up, but then his injury happened. He was so close to lashing out in frustration when his doctor firmly told him: filming is impossible at least for the first week. He was seriously considering going against the doctor’s orders, but then he couldn’t do even the most menial tasks without his manager’s help, and he knew it was a lost cause.

Joong Ki rested his head on the couch, shut his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “I know. But still, it .”

Hye Kyo didn’t say anything, but he felt her hand reaching out to his forearm, alternating between rhythmical patting and light caressing, and he let himself relax off her soothing gesture, gluing his eyes back to the TV screen.

He tried to bring his focus back to the movie, but all he could notice was the feel of her palm on his forearm and the way he could make out her side profile in his peripheral vision; it distracted him all throughout, and he gave up trying to follow the movie and turned his head to take an unabashed look at her.