GD's POV

 

I woke up with a nasty crick in the neck. My throat was dry. Half of my body was on the carpeted floor. Half on the chaise. I groggily opened my eyes. A few things came to mind. First, this was not my room.

 

Second, I was .

 

I was practically down to my boxers. , , . What the  happened last night? Fear coursed through my body as I hastily searched for the rest of my clothing. They were scattered all over the place. It took me a few minutes to redress myself, partly due to the insane hangover threatening to fry my brains out and the fact that I found my pants hanging from the chandelier. I didn't bang someone in the ceiling, right? I mean, the physics of it all was an impossibility.

 

When I dragged myself to the living room, I had to shield my eyes. The sun was acting like a homing beacon with how bright it was. Whoever owns this apartment, I highly suggest obtaining curtains. The whole place resembled a freakin glasshouse. To top it off, I almost made a head dive as soon as I rounded the corner. Boxes were everywhere! 

 

I need to get out of here. Good news was that my phone was still in my pocket. Bad news, the battery's drained. Even worse news, I just discovered whose bed I recently vacated.

 

"Oh . How drunk was I?"

 

Seung Ho didn't even bother looking up from his plate. "Considering you're in my house? Hmm...I'd say pretty wasted."

 

I cursed again. Seeing that I couldn't embarrass myself any further, I walked toward his fridge and grabbed some water. Too lazy to go look for a glass, I drank it straight from the pitcher.  

 

"Why am I in your speed dial?" His back was to me so I couldn't see his face, but his tone held some genuine curiosity.

 

I put the lid back on the pitcher, closing the fridge with my foot. "Molla," I answered in a bored voice. "Dami noona must've done it."

 

"That's what I thought. Figured it was her or Dad," he said in between bites. "Checked mine and it was the same." 

 

I plopped down unceremoniously across him on the table, one foot propped up on the chair. "So this is where you live?"

 

He nodded.

 

"Not too shabby." I picked up a small pot of cactus from the array of succulents. That's another thing I noticed. The whole house had sort of like an organic, eco-friendly feel to it. "How come I've never been here?"

 

"You are now," he deadpanned and continued chewing as if this was an everyday occurrence. "Besides, I don't remember you ever inviting me to your house."

 

"Well, it's not like you'd come."

 

"How could I if you've never invited me?"

 

"Did you ever think that it's maybe because you've never invited me to yours, too?"

 

He shrugged. "Tit for tat."

 

I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you being weird?"

 

"You're being weird," he scoffed.

 

Crossing my arms, I tipped my chair backward. "You're so...agreeable."

 

"Do you want me to go crazy on you?"

 

"No..." I'm not sure if I should be relieved that he's not throwing me out. This silent treaty felt so much like a trap. Better be on guard then. Just in case. "What happened to my other clothes?" Indeed, I was still missing a shirt.

 

"In the laundry. You vomited then passed out in my carpet. I had to drag your unconscious body to the bed." He speared the pancake and dipped it in syrup before taking a bite. "Want some breakfast?" 

 

Do I want some breakfast? Was I G-dragon? I was about to decline when my stomach emitted a growl loud enough to reach the other side of the globe. 

 

"Breakfast it is then." The squirt left the table to get a pan from the cupboard. Turning the stove on, he started batting the eggs. Chopped a few onion leaves, added some cherry tomatoes, a bit of cheese—the works. "Why don't you grab a shirt from my dresser while I cook? I'm bigger compared to you, but I think my clothes will fit you just fine." He said all of this without making eye contact which I think is a feat in itself. People love to make eye contact with me. You know what I'm sayin'?

 

My brother had a walk-in closet. Paint me surprised. If you look closely, it's sorted by color. And if you look even closer, some still had tags on it. Which means he's never worn them before. Which means he must get paid a lot for him to have this much wardrobe. What did he do for a living again? I made a few guesses as I hunted for something more my style. Which of course was close to nothing. In the end, I went with a simple plaid shirt. The sleeves were a good two inches longer and came down too far over my hands, but I had to make do. It was the only one that didn't make me look like I was attending a corporate meeting.

 

Seung Ho had just finished garnishing my omelette with parsley and was now wiping the countertop. He stopped midway when he noticed me come in.

 

"Uh no, no, no no..."

 

"Well, that's a lot of nos." He scurried out the kitchen and walked past me to his room. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. As usual, I looked great. What's his beef? Tssss. When he returned, he was carrying a black sweater. He handed it to me.

 

"You want me to change?" He nodded. I raised a brow. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

 

"Just...take it off." He was clearly avoiding my gaze.

 

I chuckled. "Omo. Did your girlfriend give this to you or something?" His cheeks turned crimson. My God. Was I right? Was he seeing someone? 

 

"Aigoo, you lucky bastard!" I punched him lightly in the shoulder. Shimmying my way out of the shirt, I tossed it to him before donning the other one. "Is she hot?"

 

"Really?"

 

"What? I just wanna get to know her."

 

"Well you can start off by asking her likes, dislikes, what her hobbies are. Is she a cat person or does she like dogs?" He ranted. "Those are the things you should ask, not how she looks like."

 

"That," I clicked my fingers, "is why you don't get laid."

 

Seung Ho rolled his eyes. "Of course. I forgot who I was talking to. You've probably dated half the female population in Gangnam." He folded the shirt with as much care as I do when I doodle on my favorite jackets. "Probably even half of Shibuya."

 

"Ya, what are you trying to say?"

 

"Nothing. Just that partying and drinking booze will eventually kill you." He gave me a pointed look. "Might wanna reflect on your life choices before it's too late."

 

"Ai, wae geurae?!" I stomped my foot, one hand on my hip as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you my psychologist? Are you a doctor? Have you got a PhD added to your name? Tsk. Give me your opinion when I ask for it, you punk."

 

"Alright. Jesus," he grumbled and shoved me toward the table. I was still glaring at him as I took my seat. The smell of the omelette wafting through my nostrils momentarily dissipated my irritation. "So...you're some kind of chef now?"

 

"Heavens, no. When I moved away for college, I relied on instant noodles so much that I was rushed to the ER for food poisoning. That's when I realized I needed to start learning how to cook."

 

"I didn't know that."

 

He allowed himself a little chuckle. "No surprise there. You might have forgotten, but we don't exactly talk." He smirked. "At least not as much as we did last night."

 

"Mwo?" I tilted my head to the side. Did we talk? What did I say? The cryptic smile he had on his face was making the hair at the back of my neck stand.

 

"Ka. Hurry up and finish that. I need to get to work by nine." He then disappeared to his room with the excuse of taking a shower. 

 

Ah, jinjja. I'll figure out what's wrong with him after I eat. The food was great. Not that I'll ever tell him. But it really was. So much so that when he returned, I had already snarfed the whole plate. And cleared his fruit bowl. And his leftover pancake. "What? I need food to sober up," came my lame reasoning. He told me he'd drop me off my apartment and I agreed. With my phone dead, I didn't really have a choice.

 

The ride home was left to a comfortable silence with me looking out the window. I noted most of his tracks were of YG. It even had one or two Bigbang songs. At least he had good taste in music. "About last night," I started, "I didn't do anything stupid, right?"

 

"Everything you do is stupid to me."

 

"Aiiisht." I clicked my tongue. "You want a black eye?"

 

Seung Ho just snorted. His eyes set on the road. "You don't scare me, idiot. Especially not after you went all mushy in my living room."

 

"Ya! I did no such thing!" 

 

He suddenly swerved and parked the car at the side of the street. I watched him type something on his phone. After a few seconds, he flipped it so I could see the screen. It was a video clip. He pressed play. The scene was grainy at first, like a recording from a CCTV. When it finally cleared, my jaw almost fell off its hinges. 

 

I watched myself in the middle of my brother's living room. Having a concert on top of his table. Holding some black figurine as a mic. Looking -faced as ever. The . 

 

'Sarang gateun sori ddawin jibeo chyeo,' Drunk Me screamed into the makeshift mic, 'oneulbameun ppiddakhageeeee'

 

'Yaaaah!!! Stop singing and get off my table!!'

 

'Naebeoryeodwo eochapi nan honjayeotjiiii' 

 

He cursed. Both hands now on his waist. 'Put that down! That's a hand carved thinker statue! It's a limited edition!'

 

'Amudo eobseo! Da uimi eobseo—sing with me, bruuuh!!' I pointed the figurine at him.

 

'Michinom.' Seung Ho looked like he wanted the ground to eat me up. He sighed loudly. 'Satang ballin wiro ddawin jibeo chyeo,' he chanted in a dead voice. 'Oneulbameun ppiddakhage...'

 

Drunk Me suddenly jumped down the table. And to my extreme shock, enveloped Seung Ho in a hug. 'I'm tiiiired. Everyone . They're all fake.'  I was practically cuddling the squirt. 'But you won't lie to me, right?'

 

Seung Ho didn't say anything. Just awkwardly stood there, letting me hug him out.

 

'You love your hyung, right?' I gagged when I saw myself peppering Seung Ho's cheek with kisses. 'Come on, dongsaeng. Popo! Popo!'

 

The video ended. I wanted to die then and there. But I didn't. What I did however, was grab the phone and made sure the evidence was destroyed. I tossed it back.

 

"That. Never. Happened." I hissed menacingly. Not bothering to wait for his response, I grabbed my jacket from the seat and rushed toward my apartment building. As soon as I got inside the safety of my home, I plugged my phone to charge it. After turning it on, I hastily removed Seung Ho from my speed dial. "There. That should do it." I was about to go take a shower when my phone rang. 

 

"Yoboseyo?"

 

'Jiyong-ah.'

 

"Oi, Tae Hee-ssi. What's up?"

 

'Just called in to let you know we're on our way to your house. We still need to go the salon to have your hair fixed before the photoshoot.'

 

"Neh."

 

'Okie-dokie. See you in a few.'

 

Aigoo. I'm still so tired. Looks like I may have to steal a few winks when I get my hair done. Too bad. I looked at the mirror, running my fingers through my thick locks. I kinda liked this color. Oh well. I can always change it back. With that comforting thought, I skipped to my room and took that long overdue me time.

 

 

Dara's POV

 

 

Perfect. Just fun-freakin-tastic.

 

Of all the times I could be running late, it had to be today.

 

I took one glance at my watch and wished the old scooter could go faster. I should have listened to Jae Sook when he said I needed to leave early to avoid the rush hour, but the restaurant was busy so there's really no other person available to help out. Besides, I was feeling under the weather today. Must've been the day-old kimbap I ate last night. Aigoo.

 

I slowed down when I reached the intersection. Red light. I turned to check the delivery box containing the take-away food. Still there. Good. I stretched my arms to ease the growing ache on my joints as I waited for the light to turn green. The man standing beside my scooter was reading the news. Left with nothing to do, I conspicuously browsed through some of the articles over his shoulder.

 

 

...A-list actress, Kim Tae hee pregnant with second child..

 

...Gucci launches latest Spring collection...

 

*sigh*

 

This is why I neither watch nor read the news. There's nothing remotely interesting that attracts my attention. All they ever talk about are things that hold no importance whatsoever. Why can't they use the written word as a platform for relevant information such as pressing world issues? What about the unreasonable inflation rate of commodities that consumers belonging to the lower class have no access to, much less afford? Don't even get me started on the gang wars I've been hearing downtown. I mean, really.

 

I was immersed in my own internal monologue when the man flipped the page and another headline caught my eye.

 

...Just in: Leaked photos of G-dragon and rumored girlfriend resurfaced months after scandal...

 

Omo. Jiyong was in a scandal? Is that the reason why he ended up in our hotel? I didn't notice how much I've been leaning forward until the man turned around and gave me a frown. I slyly took a step back and pretended to be engrossed with the puddle of water on the ground, a lame attempt to cover my sudden intrusion to his personal space. Behind him, an old guy manning his hotdog stand his radio.

 

'For those in the city, be sure to bring an umbrella,' the weatherman announced through the static. 'Looks like a bit of a downpour is headed our way, folks!'

 

Not even a minute later, tiny drops of rain started to fall down from the sky just as the light turned green. I stepped on the gas. The scooter rumbled in protest, once again reminding me of how ancient it was. Aigoo. Halmeoni should really get a car. It's just a matter of time before this old junk destroys itself. I pulled the hood of my parka over my head and scanned the streets for any passing cars. I was in the middle of crossing when a sleek black car suddenly appeared from the curb.

 

Eyes wide as saucers, I immediately tried to avoid hitting the car, but the rain made the road slippery. Combine it with the primeval brakes of my dying scooter, I could only stare in shock as the fender collided with the car's headlights. This sent me diving into the sidewalk, the bumper missing my ankle by a few inches.

 

It took a while before my soul remembered that it still had a body to return to. When I regained my common sense back, I swiftly felt for anything that might've been broken, tapping everywhere within my reach. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I was sure that all of my body parts were intact. To my extreme horror however, three plates of braised beef were scattered on the ground and undeniably ruined. I heard a car door open as I miserably pushed myself from the ground, silently cursing the known deities for this very unfortunate predicament.

 

"Ya, why did you cross out of nowhere, ahjumma?!" The driver said, thoroughly annoyed.

 

I looked around, my face partly hidden by the hood of my parka. Mwo? Ahjumma? Who the heck is he talking to? I'm obviously the only one standing here so...wait a minute. He doesn't mean...

 

"Ya, ahjumma! Are you deaf?"

 

Omo. He thought I was an old woman??!

 

"Is she hurt?" someone asked from the back of the car. That voice. I couldn't make out his face because of the black cap and mask he's wearing plus the fact that I'm slowly turning into a soggy meatloaf under the blasted rain. 

 

"I got this, sir." The driver answered. He then glared at me. "You can't just cross the road like that!"

 

"But you're the one who was overspeeding!"

 

"You appeared out of nowhere!" Is he for real? I was about to demand for compensation when he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to check the damage. "Do you see that? Your stupid scooter busted a headlight."

 

"I—"

 

"This is a Rolls Royce! It's a luxury car! Do you know how much the repair will cost for this?" I wasn't able to get a word out since he started ranting again. "It's more than your year's worth of salary!"

 

I snatched my hand back. This guy had a lot of nerve. I removed the hood of my parka, not caring if the rain made it hard for me to see him. I just had to make sure my scowl gets the point across. "Ya, ahjussi. Let's say for argument's sake that you're right. Even if I made a sharp turn, your car wouldn't have collided with mine if you had maintained a speed of—"

 

"Tokki?"

 

I blinked. Did I just...I slowly turned. Beside the open door of the damn luxury car, under an enormous black umbrella, stood Jiyong. Gone was the fluffy brown hair. Laid-back sweatpants replaced with fancy-looking designer clothes. Even his face looked different. He made his way toward me. His expensive boots creating a splash on the pavement. I looked up. Arm stretched out, he was shielding me from the rain.

 

I blinked the water away. Tasted it's saltiness from my lips. I cocked my head to the side. "Jiyong?" 

 

His hand shot out to ruffle my hair. Then he smiled that gummy smile.

 

"Neh...santokki."