"Did Jaejoong say hi to you?" Yoochun asks.

I continue unpacking my things into the spare bedroom that JYJ kindly gave to me. "Uhh no, he didn't."

"Aish! I'm sorry, sis, I don't know what's gotten into him lately..."

"Don't worry about it," I tried to assure him, but knowing my Oppa, he would worry about it.

"Yah!" Yoochun walked into Jaejoong's room abruptly. Late in the afternoon, Jaejoong was wearing a navy wife beater and baggy, grey sweats. His hair was in slight disarray, and his expression cold. He was sitting at his desk, on the computer, but turned to acknowledge Yoochun.

"You're cooking dinner tonight, araso?" said Yoochun.

Jaejoong nodded and looked back at the computer screen.

"And Soojee will help. That'll give you a chance to make up with her for your rude behavior earlier," Yoochun grinned.

Jaejoong turned, looking shocked and he wanted to say something but Yoochun already left, shutting the door behind him.

*I was rude?* Jaejoong wondered to himself.

Late that night, I had just gotten off the phone with a friend when someone knocked on my door. I went to open it, and there Kim Jaejoong was. Even in his lazy appearance, he looked good. Better than good. I saw the muscles rippling down his arms with his sleeveless top on, and his face was beautiful... but emotionless.

"Y-yes?" I stammered.

"Yoochun wants you to cook dinner with me, come on," he summoned me coldly, and walked away.

After a few moments of processing what he said, I quickly called out "Okay!" and followed him.

But when we started cooking in the kitchen, I just felt like I was getting in the way of Jaejoong's expertise. He knew where everything was, and how to make any dish known to man.  I'm a good cook, but Jaejoong wasn't giving me any chance to show it.

"Taste this," Jaejoong insists, holding out a spoon with sauce at the end.

Flushed, I leaned forward and opened my mouth, the end of the spoon. "It's delicious," I complimented, pulling back.

He proceeded to pouring the sauce over one dish he was making. "Here, chop these," he orders, putting veggies onto the counter. So I grab a knife and chopped them. Then he asks, "Where have you been all this time?"

"Bwoh?" I stare at him, surprised.

He waits for an answer.

"Uhhh... it's a long story," I laugh nervously.

"So make it short."

"You really don't want to hear about it."

"I really do."

"Um..." I looked back down at the veggies I was chopping, "I was in America."

"Why?" he asks automatically.

"I went to study there. I couldn't attend schools in Korea, because Yoochun was famous... I could never meet any real, good-hearted people," I told him honestly.

"I know the feeling," Jaejoong sighs.

We continue the rest of the cooking in an awkward silence... a part of me feeling pity toward Jaejoong, I just didn't know why.

And I was too afraid to ask him what he meant.