July 7th, 2018

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The morning begins with the noise of passing cars and a faint screech of cicadas, indicating the intense summer heat outside. Seulgi steps into pitch darkness, which is Mino's unit, the only source of light is the ray of sunlight passing through the dark curtains. Having his room layout embedded in her brain, her hand flew up to reach the switch on the wall, turning it on.

Mino, busy watching TV with a table fan oscillating in front of him, looks up in horror, thinking it's some paranormal work.

"Ya, Mino," Seulgi said, announcing her presence. She wave the Tupperware she's holding, an extra portion of kimchi fried rice along with pajeon. "I bring you breakfast."

He shimmies his way over to Seulgi. "For me? You shouldn't have—" at the sight of the familiar Tupperware, his smile falter. "Your cooking?"

Seulgi was oblivious with his disappointment. "How come you're wide awake?" her tone suspicious. When it comes to Mino, he's like an owl, a very nocturnal being. She's opening the lid to let some steam off when an answer comes to her mind, eyes narrowing slightly. "No, you haven't slept."

Mino shrugged the accusations off, he could lie just so that she won't nag, but he knew she would find out anyway. He rummaged yesterday takeout container to grab a plastic spoon. At the first bite, Mino squeezed his eyes and wiggled his body, noticing Seulgi had put too much salt as usual and wondered why she keeps cooking despite the critics he's given? It was almost as if she never listened to a word he said. Come to think of it, maybe she never did.

His chosen utensil vexed Seulgi. "Did you forget to wash the dish again?" Glancing to the side, the nearby sink is filled with dirty dishes alongside spoons and fork. On the corner, there's an ashtray Mino hadn't bothered to throw out yet, and judging by the severity of the mess, his insomnia had been a daily occurrence. Last Seulgi checked on him is to drop ointment for his neck muscle, and that's four days ago, she can't see his condition improving even now.

"Don't Wendy say something about your cooking?"

She's quick to take it as an insult and point to her food. "This could be served in a restaurant!"

If that were to happen, Mino told himself he wouldn't be bothered going. "You put too much salt." Nevertheless, he keeps on chewing like a good kid.

Setting her eyes at the TV in the living room that's currently on paused, she realized that lately she's been getting little sleep that the sound of an alarm isn't enough to wake her up, what's with all the work being piled on her. 

"Were you watching something?"

Suddenly, Mino shifted the spoon from his right to his left, breaking into an act. "Sit down," he said in a weird accent. He scooped the rice and blow on it, "have some."

Seulgi looks at him like he grew eight heads. No one, especially Seulgi said that he's any good at impersonation but with a thick head like his, consider him a maniac for reenacting a scene out of a movie. He mumbled a protest at her slow wit, then drop the spoon and starts turning his hand like a robot completed with a creepy smile.

In a snap of a finger, it registers on her. "Ah, Inside Men?"

"Bingo!" he said, completely satisfied, "I'm having a Lee Byunghun marathon."

"What's after this?"

"A Bittersweet Life," he looked up, just noticing that she's unnecessarily too dress up for dropping food, not to mention it's barely eight in the morning, no one should have the time to cook breakfast and take a shower. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I gotta go."

"Where?"

"Work."

Mino almost choked on his food upon hearing it, brows furrowing. "Work? It's Sunday."

Seulgi had the good sense to wince. "And media never sleep, apparently."

Having her Children's Day article featured in the editor's pick of the month made her cocky. For once in a long time, she's motivated and driven to land another piece, and a little bird told her that one of the infamous figure skaters in the national team wants to speak up about ual abuse. She did what everybody would in that position, convince her boss that it's not just hearsay. Due to her ambitions, she was hasty by using bold moves, soon the reporters started to gather around her source like a vulture, accidentally failing at serving the promised exclusive scoop. When Sooyoung emailed everyone for a weekly editorial meeting, best believe she's in the front line to restore her image.

"Sooyoung is definitely in the pinch to held a meeting on a Sunday. I heard about the possibilities of a new column, not that I will be a part of it," she continued. To make up for her mistakes, she resorted to lesser-known news, but in the end, publications are about selling the product, the story, and the rigorous editing process involved. She learned the hard way she can't make a story based on her interests and preferences alone. It should cater to what the audience wants to read. Since a week ago, she's been trying to find a replacement story good enough to erase her mistake.

The fact that Seulgi had to suffer through all this did not sit well with Mino. "Maybe you should call the welfare services, or better yet, quit."

If Mino put it that way, it's not like he's the first one to say that. It came across Seulgi's mind a little too often for her own good. She just can't help it, sometimes frustration brings out the urge. Sooyoung is the kind of boss who's so eager to serve the best article and not miss a deadline that she always ask the team to be permanently glued to their 6x6 cubicle. Sometimes Seulgi had to satiate her hunger with gimbap because taking a break means the longer you stay at the office. She did everything from editing, every so often rewriting, and proofreading articles. If there had been overtime pay, she guess it could be just fine, but of course, the company did not have such policy. She put up with it for two years, having her feet tingly most of the time from sitting too long and hours spent staring at a computer monitor until her eyes are practically falling out just to make other people's work look better.

Yet, she stayed. Call it loyalty or the lack of better options, but when she catch a glimpse of success she can attain through writing, she was determined to never let the company down if she was given another chance to write. She'd do it with all her heart because not writing anything only make everything feel worse. This was a job she knew she could do; in time, if she do it well, the next step is a junior editor. She's sure of it. If she holds on a little longer, there's going to be light at the end of the tunnel.

Seulgi interjects the spoon that's going into Mino's mouth halfway and direct it towards hers. "You still haven't answered me."

Mino snatches back the spoon from her, leaving messy trails of rice across the counter. He didn't know what made him do it, not like he give a damn about eating from the same spoon, let alone with her, since they occasionally drink from the same cup and taste each other's drink without asking. He remembered being comfortable before, so why the hell he feels embarrassment creeping up on him?

"Why you haven't slept," she's picking the rice on the counter, applying the five-second rule. "Afraid your work going to be rejected again?"

"Quite the contrary," he shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "My art dealer is going to negotiate with a curator, this afternoon actually."

The art dealer, a small company called YG, had commissioned Mino $10k for 5 set pieces of art and paid 2k upfront. He will receive the rest once it managed to get sold. How his dealer going to convince that his pieces somehow will become a big deal in years to come is beyond him. He tried everything to make him sleep, from folding paper cranes to watching people cut sheep's wool, failing miserably on every try.

Seulgi rests her palms on the counter, leaning forward, intrigued by the news. "No kidding, your painting?"

"Yes."

"Your work finally getting considered to be put in a gallery? Song Mino's own art?"

"If the negotiation goes well, yeah, I guess." He shrugged, masking his own anxiety by acting nonchalant. It's not the lack of confidence towards his work that may or may not meet with the gallery qualifications, what he's not confident about is other people's abilities to view his work as something that will pass the requirement it need to enter the market. Considering the ambiguity of the art world, there's no standard of rules regarding curating an art; this is what kept him up all night.

For a minute, Seulgi and Mino only look at each other, almost asking if he's being serious or not. Then, mid-chew, Mino notices what she's trying to convey by the flutter of her eyes and the broad grin. "You found my situation funny, don't you?"

Seulgi's grin got even wider. Yes, sometimes they are this good at understanding one another. "It's just—I'm happy for you if things go well, don't get me wrong," she quickly said. "But, I'm just relieved that there's always someone who's life is tier than mine, thank you for reminding me that."

"At least I don't work on Sunday," he glowered.

"And risk being like you? Who works for a week straight until all your joints erode and back disc slip out?"

"I am perfectly healthy and fine." 

"Admit it, although the cost of my labor is too high, but at least I can pay rent on time."

One of the other reasons she didn't quit is because her pay can cover rent and utilities and still left her enough for food. If she need extra money, she can write college student essay, Mino on the other hand? Since he basically doesn't have an assistant, he decides his own schedule, and won't work if he's not feeling it. He probably will take a walk through the park while playing games. Every time she brings this up to him, he would always say, 'that's life' with a carefree attitude like he had reached true enlightenment.

He's anxious about the future of his art but also Seulgi is getting on his damn nerve. Don't want to lose in this petty arguments, he glances at the bottle she's holding and knew immediately it must be the premix digestion smoothie she bought from home shopping channel.

A month ago, she suffered from bad constipation and asked Mino to take her to a hospital, so when the advertisement about the smoothies came sweeping in, she made a purchased right that second. The woman who marketed the product said it can get your body alkalized, and the sour taste of pineapple helps stimulate your 'agni' according to Ayuverdic medicine, the sentences mystify Mino so much he's against her buying it. He can't bring himself to trust the woman on TV, how did she learn to talk all of those words with a happy face? But of course, she didn't listen to his suspicion and insisted that Mino try it. He had to say, it has done absolutely nothing to him.

"Sure, paying your rent on time is fun, but have you ever pooped on a reliable schedule?"

He had to scoffed at the idea of paying rent on time. It's such a faraway dream for Mino in this age because selling art would be easy peasy lemon squeezy if he had been independently wealthy. Sadly, he comes from the working-class, it's near impossible to have his artwork selling out. When he decided to apply for college in fine arts, he had to fight hard for people to take him seriously because he's not from Seoul. The unregulated pricing, fancy name being dropped here and there for the sake of connection, large sums of money being exchanged, it's essentially an industry that is crying out for verification. It's utterly foolish for him to think he can penetrate the market without a third-party to maneuver the world's back end.

Frustrated with the way things are, he often daydreamed about what he would do if he had power, if the world could bend and shaped according to him. On another life, he imagined that he love sports and decided on a fixed career that will give him enough money at the end of the month to survive another one. If the fantasy got a little wild, he envisioned himself to be like Monet, who spend his life gazing at his own backyard and drawing water lilies, percepting nature at its most beautiful state.

But fantasy is merely a fantasy. The reality is that Mino had been living in the persistence of turning his hobby into a lifelong career, and it all come to little to; someone has to buy his art. No matter what. Mino doesn't really choose a subject of his art, and while it often laced with varying degrees of social commentary, his dealer had asked him to paint something more market-oriented, something like gestural painting or geometric abstract, said it's the easiest one to sell. He's betraying his own style for the last month, but desperate times call for desperate measure. In the end, he's happy enough to experience it.

Seulgi sigh attracts Mino's attention. "You've tried it, admit that it works."

"Remember that one night I asked you is it okay for you to eat noodles so late in the night?" Seulgi didn't have good digestion system in the first place and it was a nightmare for Mino to take her to the hospital and wait for hours staring at a boring beige wallpaper only for her to be sent home and prescribed some medications, if she hadn't been too panicky, she could buy at the local pharmacy without a perscription. 

"What about it?"

"You said, and I quote," he emphasized it with his hands up, making the gesture. "It's okay because you feel clean due to the smoothies, unquote. Who would believe that ?" He finished.

"I do!" She raised her voice defensively.

"Look, I don't care if some actor promote that or even the President himself use it," he pointed to the smoothies that are a blend of cinnamon and pineapple, the sight of it enough to make him shudder. "It does nothing, that's a fact, you don't have to be so hellbent on saying that it is!"

"It does work!"

"How? You complained about how bloated you are in the morning. That's it, the product is a scam, admit it."

"It's how I know it's working!"

Behind them, Sehun poked out his head from his door, scowling at them for disturbing his peaceful sleep. "Ah, it's the married couple," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What?" They both said in unison.

"You both are being noisy," he said, a little louder. "Why so early?" he stared pointedly at the woman who doesn't live here but always act like she does.

"I'm dropping breakfast." She answered like it's not a rare occurrence for her to wake up in the morning and have the energy to cook.

"And there's none for me?" he whined, standing in the living room with eyes looking blankly at the single Tupperware currently in Mino's possession. Seulgi argued that she packed enough for two, but Mino is just greedy. Sehun stood there for another second until he walked towards them.

Sehun looked down at the leftover rice Mino had left so little to the imagination. With a resigned sigh and lack of appetite, Sehun grabs two pieces of bread and eat it plain before walking back to his bedroom. Going back to sleep is a lot better than to listen to these two bickers.

Seulgi grips the strap of her tote bag firmly, holding it really close to her like Mino about to pickpocket her. "Anyway, I'm going back for this, understood?" she tapped the lid of Tupperware, telling him that she's willing to go a thousand miles to get it back.

Mino makes a self-reminder to wash it before giving it back because last time he forgot, she scolded him of how ungrateful he is like there's a correlation between those two things. Seulgi gives him a look, waiting for a nod. He rolled his eyes for the minimum trust she seems to have towards him and shooed her away with a flick of his hand.

When Seulgi arrived at work, it was shrouded with a tense atmosphere. Yoona, one of the head columnists, sashayed her way towards the meeting room, stopping at the entrance noticing Seulgi's presence. "Nice of you to join us,"

She stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling nervous. "Yeah, no problem," it's not like she has much say in the matter.

Without missing a beat, she raised her eyebrow at Seulgi. "You have something?"

Technically speaking, Yoona is Seulgi's superior while Sooyoung is her boss, and both of them are in a position to reprimand her. Perhaps Sooyoung had given Yoona a silent look back when Seulgi ruined the exclusive scoop, telling her she could be the one to provide Seulgi with a scolding, thus Yoona's insistence presence is enough to make Seulgi squirm.

"I was following up a story, should have something later today." The words are out of before she could stop them. She wasn't lying about following a story, but is it a great story? Well, no. Eating lunch with Yeri make her noticed a novelty. Her friend is addicted to the numbers of likes on her instagram posts. Yes. An accumulative response from strangers. She needed to know, what's behind the craze of it all.

"Oh," Yoona was taken aback for a while, hands hovering over the entrance of the meeting room. "You haven't updated us on anything. What is it about?"

"That we, as a generation, seek social approval through how many times we are 'liked' on social media." If anything, college had taught her how to bull, the better the universities, the better the bull. Hers was on par. "It leans towards lifestyle section, but there's just something compelling to put something online when you're bored and feel the instant gratification when people like your post and feel humiliated when you don't receive the love. I think it could help young readers anxiety of being excluded be heard," Seulgi trailed off, recognizing the look on her superior face.

"And we haven't been doing that?" Yoona tilts her head and squints.

"Of course, we cat